Dark Intimacy
by Lady of chaos and tragedy
Summary: Nicolette is a young beauty with a troubled past, and an even more troublesome future. When her nightmares merge with her real life, should she be grateful the man of her dreams is alive.. or turn around and run for her life?
1. Chapter 1

It is a generally accepted fact that anticipation is half the fun of an event; or that dread is half the horror.

Tonight, in the ever-so-cleverly-hidden heart of Caelen Von Traske, it seemed that an equal balance of these two emotions existed. Each half fought the other for supremacy, and he was quite undecided as to which would win. It also seemed that lately, ('_lately_' being within the last two decades of Caelen's rather expansive lifetime), he had run into more and more of these little dilemmas_. _A harsh and rather unwelcome side effect of _'emotion'_.

Sometimes he really did long for a return to the simple existence he had enjoyed for so many centuries. Free from moral ties and troublesome mortal _feelings_. An ancient should not be bound by such things. Particularly an Adianti, one of the sacred brotherhood. They were the ancient of ancients, the keepers of light, protectors of the dawn...

Caelen smiled at the memories invoked by his formal title. Carpathians could be a little nostalgic, and maybe perhaps even melodramatic when it came to their traditions. When he had taken his oath as a boy, Caelen had promised to 'stand fast in the dawn', 'face evil with valour', 'keep innocence chaste', 'pay the blood-price of peace', and 'remain a light in darkness and obscurity, when all other lights fail'.

They were beautiful words, but in truth, merely a poet's sentiment. Caelen knew nothing of 'chaste innocence ' and 'keeping the light'. He was a healer, an advisor, a warrior, and a con artist. He fought the fights that must be won, he deceived those that must be deceived, he disposed of the things no eye must see, he covered the trails of the vilest evil, and kept those terrifying secrets that none must know.

He was the soul of discretion and the archangel of cursed destiny.

And now he found himself facing his biggest challenge.

* * *

With her nose in the air and the gentle caress of night breeze ruffling the fur on her neck, seventeen-year-old Nicolette Charla Matthews turned her elegant crimson head and twitched one ear towards the sound that had enticed her into the night.

In the fox's dexterous form, she padded to the edge of her rocky vantage point and leapt off into beautiful, star-lit darkness. A mountain stream burbled to her right, and the sound soothed her sensitive ears.

Gregori would be furious if he knew she was out here. Especially alone. Especially following the wolf.

Gregori hated her wolf, she knew that quite definitely, because she had seen it enough on his mind. Yet, the hate didn't stem at all from anything the wolf had physically done to hurt Gregori. As a matter of fact, Gregori had never even seen it.

And perhaps that was the trouble. For we all fear the most what we cannot understand, and we all invariably hate that which we fear most.

And Gregori did not understand. The wolf's plaintive cry sounded again, and Nicolette checked her progress, her dainty black paws dancing in anticipation. He didn't understand at all. She couldn't help herself. The wolf was her friend. He had taught her everything. He had found her after the death of her parents, after Gregori and Savannah had taken her in, and together they had helped to fill the void. In this way, Nicolette had always thought of Gregori and the wolf as secret cohorts, working together towards the same goal. It was that chain of thinking that led to her hurt and confusion when, after she had finally told her adoptive father about her silver friend (for some reason the wolf had always advised against this particular plan), Gregori had abruptly forbade her ever to see him again.

With the wisdom of her wolf proven once again, Nicolette turned from Gregori, hurt and indignant with all the tenacity of a child. And when Gregori dared to inquire as to how she had suddenly learned how to morph herself into an owl, or set up mind blocks so powerful he found them hard to penetrate, Nicolette answered with a quiet, lofty patience; that is, when she deigned to respond at all.

"The white wolf taught me."

And Nicolette would say no more.

Still, the simple statement from a nine-year-old Nicolette had disturbed Gregori far more than he cared to admit. He himself, when Savannah was a child, had befriended the girl in the form of a wolf. He had recklessly used the trusting innocence of a babe to bind his lifemate, and he was not proud of his actions, but they had been necessary.

However, if someone, or something, was using a similar method to manipulate Nicolette, there would be unholy consequences.

But Savannah dismissed his theories, stating quite simply that children would be children, and it was far likelier that Nicolette had imagined the wolf to fill up her lonely days. For although they treated her as a daughter, and their twin girls were like Nicolette's own younger sisters, she was still a very isolated child. And as for her developing power, well, what did they really know about her heritage? Practically nothing. Neither of her parents had been known to the Carpathians. She had been found alone at the scene of a slaughter, too young to remember, and brought home by the young hunter Fabien Drake. She was part mage, she bore the dragon, but that was all.

And even now, while Gregori sat at home worrying over his protégé, Nicolette's lithe form flitted and danced independently through miles of happy, moonlit mountain range.

She was a bird overhead, a mountain cat below, a whisper in the wind.

Shifting quite suddenly from the light summer breeze back into a bounding, sleek crimson fox, Nicolette turned her whiskered nose to the wind and again drank deeply of mountain air. She was certain that she would never get enough.

She blew out a breath and contemplated the night. The white wolf with piercing green eyes forced itself inexorably into her thoughts. It had been seven years since their last meeting. Seven years since she had felt his quiet presence in her mind. How odd it was to hear his call now. But she remembered the lessons he'd taught her. He'd shown her how to use her powers. How to weave basic safeguards and call on the elements, even how to open her mind to private mental paths. And to close it. He had been a friend, a companion in a lonely world, and she missed him.

Without warning, a sudden, horrid premonition of danger surrounded Nicolette, and she whirled to face it, cursing herself for her lack of vigilance, but it was too late. A hard, strong grip fastened itself around the fox's tiny neck, and she felt herself being hurled through the air. She shape-shifted mid-flight, landing crouched on the ground in human form. Thick curls fell softly into burning eyes as she straightened carefully to face her attacker. A shadowed figure stood in the small clearing, and she sought out his scent automatically.

Carpathian. A male, close to turning, enveloped in darkness. Her instincts told her to turn tail and run, but she was too angry to pay heed. She snarled and flung herself at him, using supernatural speed and agility. She sliced out with fingernails that lengthened and sharpened into claws, and felt them connect with skin. But in a blinding flash the male retaliated. He didn't appear to change his position in the slightest way; but suddenly Nicolette found herself in a crushing grip, and felt sharp fangs tear at the flesh on her neck.

She cried out, and it stopped as quickly as it had begun, her body hurled away with a brute strength that was astonishing.

"You are a foolish child."

The voice was low, and calm, matter-of-fact; scarlet silk sliding smoothly over honeyed inflection as he stepped out of shadow and into moonlight.

Nicolette rolled over in the grass, the sense of danger and urgency suddenly gone as she surveyed her former opponent. A bitter sullenness dulled her fiery eyes as she stood once more.

She was realizing that she had been tricked. The man before her was not a threat. She could not explain her certainty, but she knew. He had been testing her, and it infuriated her that she had failed. Quietly correcting the earlier mistake, she utilized her psychic connections to touch his mind, and read his energy.

She pressed a shaky hand to her neck, where blood still flowed.

"An Ancient," She commented softly, "should know better."

The male inclined his head.

"And," He countered calmly, "a student of mine would not leave herself vulnerable."

Nicolette's eyes snapped up sharply, ethereal red matching emerald light. Caelen smiled, fangs flashing in a deadly amusement.

"Have I left you alone so long, little one, that you do not recognize your white wolf?"


	2. Chapter 2

chap 2

Although Caelen was more than two thousand years old, he didn't look it. With the almost unnatural talent so characteristic of his race, Caelen did not appear to age. At least, not in any way a mere mortal would expect. Physically, the man looked to be in his late 20's. He was tall, strong, and strikingly handsome; with long, silver hair, and the pale, gentle features one might expect of a poet, but definitely not a warrior. However, it was when one looked deeply into the hauntingly emerald eyes, that one could see his true age, beauty, and wisdom.

And that same haunting gaze was now directed at Nicolette, as she stood in the corner of Mikhail's luxurious living room, and listened to the old ones' conversation.

Gregori and Mikhail were both present, and as Caelen's gaze strengthened in intensity, Nicolette took a small step back, placing Gregori's chair firmly between herself and the ancient. She felt a breath of his amusement, and he looked away, rejoining the age old ritual of necessary niceties and inevitable small talk. If the others had noticed anything between them, they didn't show it.

After their little adventure in the mountains, Nicolette had escorted Caelen to Mikhail's estate, refusing to listen, be questioned, or say anything other than the minimal respects that must be paid to such a great man.

Secretly, she was humiliated.

Of course she should have known that the wolf was no wolf; for heaven's sake, how many canines were telepathic?

And even worse, the wolf that wasn't a wolf wasn't even an ordinary unordinary wolf, but **_the_ _Carpathian Holy Man! _**

At this moment, she found herself confusing herself even more than the night's events had already done, if that was at all possible, and instead of attempting to sort it all out, Nicolette involuntarily turned to her memories of the wolf; blushing a shade of crimson which matched her curly hair. She recalled the whispered admissions and private confessions of a child to her trusted friend. They were silly things, like the way Gregori's eyes scared her at night, or the loss of a cherished toy, and, in particular, her fear of the dreams.

What must he think of her? Did he see her as the petulant infant she had once been?

So deep was she in her silent embarrassment, that it took her several moments to consider that _she_ was the child, he the adult, and instead of _her_ shame, it should be _his_. What right had he to betray the trust of a child?

Anger sparked and flared at this realization, but died as quickly as it had come, squelched by a sudden burning curiosity. What excuse did he offer for his actions?

Nicolette's ruby and garnet gaze settled comfortably over Caelen von Traske as he calmly discussed business with the others, evaluating and contemplating. Surely a Carpathian so powerful and revered would not conduct such an experiment without good cause. So what were his reasons?

Even as she began to open her mouth, a silky voice sounded in her head.

__

You are right, little one. We must talk.

Nicolette jumped, her eyes blazing white-hot at the sudden intrusion into her mind. She reached out to the intimate mental link Caelen had forged between them, not bothering to censor her anger.

__

Yes.

Her voice was a husky snarl in his ear. Contemptuous.

_Yes, my lord, we most definitely will._

Almost immediately after the vengeful words had left her subconscious, she was mortified. Her striking tone seemed a horridly inappropriate way to address such an important guest. But any remorse she felt disappeared in flames as Caelen's amusement washed over her, meeting her confliction with flippant laughter. She fumed.

How could such an arrogant _jerk_ be so revered in Carpathian circles??

Caelen felt the red-head's gaze burning his skin as her eyes narrowed into fiery slits. He intentionally ignored her fury.

Gregori failed to notice the levitating antique lamp, until it hurled full-tilt at Caelen's head; smashing harmlessly into a million pieces against the wall behind him. With stark astonishment all eyes in the room turned upon a red-faced, horror-stricken Nicolette, and then to the silver-haired ancient who calmly brushed debris from his shoulders.

"I think it is time, gentlemen, that we came to the point of our meeting." He reclined lazily, appearing perfectly relaxed. "I have sensed a new threat gathering power against us. Something unlike any we've encountered before. For the last several centuries I have felt influence permeating the ranks of our enemies, and I believe that it will not wait long to strike." Caelen stated his news as matter-of-factly as though he were remarking on the weather.

"And, what is this 'threat'?" Gregori demanded, torn between furiously lecturing Nicolette and devoting his attention to the ancient. Caelen smiled.

"Believe me, my brother, if I held any evidence of the identity, or indeed, the _existence_ of this evil, I would present it to you. I hold theories and visions alone. However, I do believe that Miss Matthews may hold the key to our victory."

Astonishment fell over the silence, and the pieces slowly began to fall into place in Nicolette's brain. This would explain the white wolf; the teachings and lessons. Clearly he had been grooming her for some higher purpose. But what? And who? Where? Why? A million questions swirled in her mind, but failure never once entered her head.

Mikhail, however, intervened on her behalf, seeking a diplomatic compromise. "Nicolette is a mere child. I cannot ask this of her. Surely this is no enemy that our warriors cannot face."

"She is young, my prince, but a child she most certainly is not." Caelen spoke softly, a lilting in his honeyed hypnotic voice. "However, if you cannot petition her, you most certainly would not deny me _my_ opportunity."

Sensing the quiet criticism in the Ancient's inflection, Mikhail bristled. "You think me incapable of doing what is necessary for our people, my lord?"

"Of course not." His eyes betrayed nothing, but below the surface, Caelen's mind reached out in tendrils like a puppet master's strings. He wouldn't control or manipulate the Prince, but he _would_ play quietly off Mikhail's conflicting emotions. "I am merely suggesting that we allow the young lady to speak for herself in this matter."

Feeling somewhat foolish, something he had not felt in an inescapably long time, Mikhail acquiesced. Caelen smiled, green eyes melting into a pool of liquid emerald, his attention focusing on the tall girl with long legs and a fiery soul.

"What is it to be, little one? Will you join me in Paris?"

"I..."

__

Wha- ... um, Paris?

Nicolette faltered. "I'm not sure."

"She will not." Thunder rumbled and Gregori stood, eyes flashing silver. "She is a child under my protection, Von Traske. She is not of age. You do not hold the authority to do as you suggest." His last words were an almost unintelligible snarl.

"I feel quite competent pitting my powers against yours, _Dark One. _But I see no need for such a catastrophe." Caelen's voice promised death, even as he asked for peace. The world was about to become horrifying enough, without brother fighting friend.

"Wait." Nicolette placed a restraining hand on Gregori's shoulder, feeling the muscles beneath ripple with powerful promise. She looked at Caelen with pleading eyes, suddenly horribly afraid of the man who looked like a scholar and toyed with the devil.

"I'll do what you ask. When do we leave?"

****

-


	3. Chapter 3

Chap 3

Nicolette curled comfortably into a large, over-stuffed armchair and turned the volume on her ipod up as loud as she could without hurting her sensitive ears.

One week in Paris, and she had yet to see the Eiffel tower. As a matter of fact, she hadn't seen anything but the inside of Caelen's mansion, as beautiful as the place was. The wide, flowing estate was set back in the country, well outside the city.

Caelen had instructed her to make herself at home, and she had quickly done so. The house was gorgeous, a mix of antique Victorian elegance and dark mystic appeal. Shadows lived in unlit corners and under spiralling oak staircases, while warm mahogany furniture and white marble accents saved the atmosphere from complete gloom. The lighting in the house was dim and subtle, comfortable to her sensitive eyes. She loved it. The entire place felt as though it had been specially crafted to her preference.

But Nicolette was frustrated. And confused.

After all the effort and trouble he'd gone through to get her here, Caelen had left her almost completely alone.

She sighed, turning her head to look out at the stars. So immersed was she in her chaotic thoughts, she didn't sense or notice Caelen's presence until a low, masculine voice spoke.

"You're not dressed."

She jumped three feet in the air, knocking the armchair sideways and landing in a very ungraceful heap on the polished hardwood floor.

Getting up quickly in an attempt to hide her embarrassment, Nicolette took the earphones off and picked up the armchair.

"I apologize, _csitri**. **_Did I startle you?" Caelen appeared perfectly, frustratingly innocent.

Catching the slight twitch of his mouth, she rolled her eyes.

"Why do you insist on calling me that?" She moved slightly towards him, her eyes shifting from annoyed to insinuating in a heartbeat. "I'm really not so little anymore."

Caelen raised an eyebrow at her antics, but did not deign to respond. "Go and dress, _enfant."_

Nicolette's eyes narrowed, frustrated as much by his commanding demeanour as his bilingual teasing. Who knew that he could tease? With another silken purr, she decided that two could play the game. "_Möért, Isäntä?_"

Caelen ignored the antagonism.

"We are going out, little one, and if you refuse to dress for the occasion, will you permit me to offer my assistance?"

He didn't visibly move, but Nicolette found herself suddenly caught in a satin swirl of silver energy which petted and preened; she actually felt her crimson curls being individually combed out and arranged. She eyed Caelen warily. She didn't trust the man. After all, the first time they'd formally met, he'd had his teeth in her neck.

The clothes she had been wearing when he came in seemed to evaporate into nothingness, and she felt the whisper of new, much more expensive fabrics enveloping her skin.

Once her initial shock was gone, Nicolette stepped out of the vapour and over to the gilded, floor-length mirror in order to better survey Caelen's handiwork.

She definitely didn't hate it.

Her long, shapely legs were encased in smart black denim which tapered to the ankle and fit like a second skin. A dark, deep red velvet corset laced her slim torso and accented the pale, milky skin of her slender neck and shoulders; coming up just high enough to be modest, yet low enough to play vixen. Her full head of shoulder-length curls shone, and a smoky mahogany shade shadowed ethereally crimson eyes, making them appear larger and more seductively naïve.

She turned on him, one shapely eyebrow raised.

"Well, I assume we're not going to your country club."

--

As she stepped out of the shining black limousine and into the heart of Paris' extensive nightlife, Nicolette's breath caught. The lights and air and smells overwhelmed her delicate senses, and in a slight daze she accepted Caelen's proffered arm.

As he escorted her into the club, Nicolette's eyes widened. The place was terrifying. Beautiful, but terrifying. It was horribly elegant, and she was sure it was ridiculously expensive, and it was definitely the hottest spot to be, Caelen seemed to fit right in, but the place was _macabre._ Black on black on greyish black, lit only by dim, blood-red lights and candles, with horridly grotesque stone figures set in odd poses around the room. She shuddered.

Caelen steered her to a private alcove, and settled her comfortably. Almost immediately, as if by magic, three Armani-clad human business tycoons appeared, surrounding Caelen and lavishly gushing praise upon his companion.

"I hear, _mademoiselle_, that you are fresh from London. How are you enjoying Paris?"

"That cannot be true, Philippe, she is far too exotic for London. South America, wasn't it? You're the new model on the cover of Vogue, I knew I'd seen you before."

At this Nicolette laughed, the musical sound intriguing any and all males within hearing distance. She forgot her reserves, and immediately took to the social scene like a duck to water. She was young and vibrant, enchanting. She talked and laughed and entertained, drawing men to her like bees to honey.

The music was sensuous, and the mood infectious. Nicolette found herself being drawn and escorted to the dance floor, mingling gracefully with so many other writhing bodies who danced in the flashing lights. She closed her eyes and felt alive, burning with... Something...

And then she turned and saw him, lounging in the corner. Every muscle of his body screamed nonchalance, but his eyes glowed with a predatory gleam, and she saw again in Caelen, hidden beneath the chivalry and complacence, something dark, bestial, primeval. In the next blink of an eye, it was gone, and his expression showed nothing but indifference, yet it had been there. She had seen it, the beast lurking below the educated surface.

--

The swirling vortex of his mind was untameable, and the newfound colours and feelings spelt pure, unadulterated torture. For dozens of centuries he had maintained control; mastering powers which had consumed lesser beings, and battled his inner darkness until he had no more will to fight.

How much more would he endure?

Caelen closed his eyes in a vain effort to block her from his mind, but it was no use. If he could not see her, he could hear her laughter singled out from the music and humans. If he could not touch her, her scent wrapped itself in inviting curls around his senses.

He visibly shuddered, cursing whatever Gods there were or weren't for his agony. It would be so simple to kill her. To eliminate this unholy threat to his sanity, and bring an end to his suffering. His logical, calculating side desperately wanted to do just that; embrace the darkness and escape the ties of responsibility. Morality.

But even as he felt and thought such things, his recognized them and was repulsed by the shadow clouding his judgement. Urgency became paramount. The girl was not yet old enough, by the laws of their forefathers, to accept his claim. But that would hardly matter to Caelen. If the worst came to worst, he would sacrifice the girl's childhood in order to spare the world his blackened soul. His control was fading. He had held out as long as he could, kept himself from the void of evil for over two thousand years by sheer willpower. But that no longer mattered. His fate was in the hands of a seventeen-year-old vixen, and she didn't even know it.


	4. Chapter 4

Chap 4

"Concentrate."

The single word was a scathing silk cascade running down her back. Stroking her frustration like a stick baiting a bear as she picked herself up yet again from the smooth, hard floor of Caelen's 'gym'.

The place was a martial arts mausoleum. And it was _huge. _Football field huge. Marked with marble columns along its length. It was also a veritable armoury, the walls literally _lined_ with weapons of every kind, design, and century.

At the moment, the source of all things evil (at least in Nicolette's mind), currently stood squarely in the centre of that mausoleum. Armani-clad and impeccably groomed, Caelen stood undisturbed as he repelled her attacks with lazy nonchalance. He inclined his head ever so slightly in her direction, his long silver hair falling perfectly in place; as if each sleek strand was anxious to please the master.

"_Jälleen_, _csitri. _Channel your energy_." _

His voice sounded low in her head, a raw, derisive drawl which didn't at all fit with his impeccably perfect exterior. _You are not trying. _

"_Köd alte hän..." _Pulling herself to a standing position, Nicolette swore under her breath in the tongue of the ancients, knowing perfectly well that Caelen could hear and understand.

__

Terád keje, isäntä. I AM trying!

And she was. At first her attacks had been pathetically half-hearted. She hadn't really taken him seriously. It was all a game.

But that was in the past. The first time he had sent her hurtling toward a marble column at speeds previously unknown to man, she had dropped the pretty-in-pink act. For the past hour she had been throwing her best punches at him, but each attempt was defeated with a glance, or a wave of his hand that would send her flying. She had never felt so completely bruised, and as she gathered herself for another high-speed attack, her pounding head ached in protest. It was ridiculous. She _knew_ she could beat him, and it infuriated her that, as of yet, she hadn't.

She approached him as a smoky blur, her fingernails sharpening into dangerous claws that licked out like flames reaching for his skin... but they found instead a sharp, crackling, impenetrable barrier that jolted her back ten feet and again flat on her now very tenderized arse.

Furious, she blew out her breath and growled in what she knew was a miniature temper tantrum, allowing a portion of the mounting frustration to escape in the small action. To her utter shock, little ripples of the same impenetrable electric substance surrounding Caelen emanated from the air near her feet. Caelen laughed, the sound a lilting taunt.

"I am insulted, little one. Does the floor offer a more intimidating threat to you than I?"

Nicolette's eyes flashed scarlet, even as she attempted to ignore him. She knew he wanted her to lose control, but she wasn't going to. Her eyes narrowed as she drew a deep breath, and with a cool deliberation she tried to recreate the furious, helpless sensation.

But manipulating one's emotions is a horribly unstable business, and instead of her calculated attack, Nicolette found herself screaming with her eyes squeezed tight shut as a wall of blood-red, electric energy washed over Caelen.

For a moment Nicolette stared in shock at what she'd done.

The crimson haze collided with Caelen's aura, and sparks flew loudly for a moment. But only a moment. The next second, her scarlet energy was dissipating; the fiery passion literally being absorbed by Caelen's strength.

Nicolette watched in awe as he emerged unscathed; but admiration was quickly replaced with foreboding as Caelen raised one carefree hand in a sweeping motion.

Abruptly, Nicolette found herself slammed mercilessly hard into a very unforgiving marble statuette, which shattered upon impact.

As she lay in the debris, Nicolette cracked one eye open to see Caelen standing over her.

"Okay, _maybe _I deserved that one."

"Hmm.."

If she didn't know any better, she could have sworn Caelen was laughing. She moaned exaggeratedly and slumped back, eyes shut, her pale milky skin and crimson curls dusted with powdered white marble.

"Alright, _isäntä, _how am I doing?"

"Better."

Caelen's voice sounded far away, and she sat up to see his retreating figure almost at the door. She called after him.

"Hey, wait _oma, _you haven't shown me how to block your hand-wavy thing yet!"

Caelen's reply floated back to her from a distance, and he didn't turn around.

"Tomorrow_, csitri."_

For a moment, Nicolette remained on the floor, allowing feeling to come back into her extremities. Even though she was sure that underneath her black skin-suit she was completely purple, and Caelen had thoroughly put her in her place, she also felt marginally victorious. She had landed a blow on the Carpathian holy man.

Of course she had come out by far the worse in the ordeal, but it wasn't that bad. Caelen had been careful with her. She wasn't dead, which she knew she easily could have been had he wanted her so. She didn't even have any broken bones, which was amazing when you thought about it. Even for a Carpathian.

After another minute, Nicolette dragged her aching carcass into a standing position and limped out of the arena. She desperately wanted to sink into her warm bed of loam, and sleep 'til next week.


	5. Chapter 5

chap 5

As promised, the next night Nicolette found herself summoned once again to the anti-chamber of horrors.

Her muscles ached dully from the previous night's activities, and she flexed the fingers of one hand as she assumed the now-familiar defensive stance at one end of the arena. She sensed Caelen's presence, but didn't look up as she adjusted the leather guards which spanned the length of her forearm.

She was burning with questions, and had been since the beginning of this whole debacle. What was this ever-so-mysterious 'threat'? What on god's green earth was her connexion to it?? Why, if time was so precious, had Caelen taken so long to begin her instruction, after all the care he had taken to ensure her presence in France? Why was he so goddamned reclusive and _vague?_

Bloody hell-fire.

Nicolette had just set her mind to actually lend voice to these inquiries as she lifted her gaze to the centre of the hall of death, but what she saw there immediately rendered her quite speechless.

It was Caelen, of course; and as casually, beautifully flawless as ever. But one significant change had wrought itself upon the Master. Instead of the stylish two-legged form he generally assumed, Count von Traske appeared before her instead as the small white canine so beloved and familiar to Nicolette.

Her hair fell into her eyes as she stared, and for a moment shock kept her quite paralyzed. Memories of happier times, of a child's joy, brought a smile to her lips. Unconsciously, Nicolette took an involuntary step forward; one hand held out in open invitation to an old friend.

The wolf blinked great emerald eyes calmly, and cocked his regal silver head to one side. He didn't move.

Nicolette wasn't exactly sure if she had somehow expected the creature to bound towards her with a waving tail and eager tongue… But the stoic distance he maintained made this idea seem horribly ridiculous; and suddenly Nicolette could see quite clearly through the furry façade to the man beneath. It was not her old companion. She was suddenly quite certain that _that _entity no longer existed, and a cold sorrow laced glacial fingers around her heart.

Her hand dropped to her side coolly, and she bowed in formal greeting.

"Good evening, my Lord. I trust you slept well?"

The wolf regarded her with tacit interest. Impressed by her complacence, Caelen waited a moment before reinstating his former humanoid stature.

"I did, _csitri_. And you?"

"Exceptionally, my lord." Nicolette felt the coolness penetrating her cordial words, but she didn't care. What kind of stunt was he trying to pull? Did it amuse him to watch her squirm?

Seeming to ignore the hostile undertones in her reply, Caelen continued his speech.

"I believe we will forego tonight's planned activities. I have a present for you, little one."

Curiosity sparked Nicolette's interest, and she watched inquisitively as the now-familiar whorl of shimmering mist tangled itself in mid-air at Caelen's feet. He did not seem to move at all. Her eyes widened in disbelief as, out of the swirling silver energy, stumbled a living creature that seemed to be made of the same material from which it had emerged.

It was small, so petite that she could cup it in the palm of one hand; a perfect miniature replica of the great animal Caelen had so recently imitated.

Blinking, the pup stumbled, turning to look admiringly up at his conjuror. Caelen raised an expectant eyebrow at the pup, inclining his head in Nicolette's direction as though passively instructing a wayward child.

With infinite care the red-head bent to pick up her precious offering as it stumbled happily into her arms, and immediately set about the task of licking every inch of her face and neck.

She was beginning to despair of ever truly understanding Caelen von Traske.

* * *

Weeks passed, and their training sessions continued. Nicolette grew stronger, progressing rapidly and absorbing any and all knowledge Caelen offered her like a sponge to water. She was quickly gaining control of her magic, having already mastered the art of glittering red force-fields.

She loved it, treasuring the sensation of grace and fluidity. Caelen taught her the power of control, showing her the pleasure in maintaining a complete domination of her own mind and body.

When they sparred, as Nicolette's power grew, she saw her own satisfaction mirrored in Caelen. He enjoyed the challenge, liked her quick wit and talent. It was exhilarating, and through it she felt a connection, a comradeship with her instructor.

The wolf pup he had presented to her remained as a symbol of their truce, and both felt a deep fondness for the animal. To Nicolette it was a pet to be spoiled and showered with love. To Caelen, a companion and protector of the girl.

In some ways they were polar opposites; her impulsive youth clashing with his ancient dignity. But Nicolette was discovering many similarities between them that startled her.

They talked, and for the most part it was a series of solemn discourses which were designed on Caelen's part to share some small portion of his knowledge with her ever-so-passionate spirit. But as they sat in the large library on the nights they did not venture out to the clubs of Paris, they found themselves enjoying each other's company.

It was on one such night when the lord of the manor sat managing affairs of state in his candlelit den, that Nicolette idly wandered in and sat opposite him. Her feet automatically propped themselves atop his desk, long, silkily smooth legs bared in cut-off green pyjama bottoms. She watched him rustle papers until she couldn't bear the silence.

"Was your hair always silver?" She asked the question aimlessly, wishing for acknowledgement.

"Yes." Caelen didn't look up, or make any other sign that he knew she was in the room. "Why?"

Nicolette shrugged noncommittally, examining her fingernails. "It's just.. really unusual… isn't it? I mean, most Carpathians are dark. Gregori is. I am. The Prince is. Savannah is. Dimitri-"

Caelen sighed dramatically and lifted his glittering emerald gaze to her face, clearly amused. "Am I to be submitted to a full and complete list of every dark-haired Carpathian you know, little one?"

"Perhaps." For a minute, Nicolette appeared to consider the possibility. But then her eyes sparkled and she laughed teasingly. "No. I was just wondering if our hair changes colour with age, like humans'. I mean, you've been around for a pretty long time, right? Will my hair eventually go white? or silver? or gray? or-?"

"_No, _csitri." And for the first time she saw him smile as he shook his head in disbelief at her antics. A true smile, with happiness behind it. It was ravishing, breathtaking. "Your hair will remain the colour the Gods have created it for as long as you wish it to be that way, little one."

She immediately jumped on the 'as long as' in his sentence.

"So, if I wanted to I could just randomly turn blonde? or brown? or what about pink? I've always liked pink…"

His laughter spilled down her senses like honeyed scarlet silk, the beautiful hypnotic power of his voice tripling itself in mirth. It made her heart warm to be the cause of it.

"Nicolette, you have the ability to morph your body into that of a tree frog. Did you truly think the colour of your hair would be an impossible thing to alter?"

She laughed, her pearly white teeth flashing in the semi-darkness.

But he was teasing her again, and it was time for revenge. Adopting an air of petulant innocence, she pulled her legs from his desk and placed her bare feet on the floor. Standing, her pale skin seemed to glow in the soft candle light. Silently she moved around the ornate desk that had before acted as a barrier, and settling herself upon it, candidly sat cross-legged at his elbow.

"Well, I suppose if humans can do it…" Her voice was molten lava. She had flipped that invisible switch which, she had learned, maximized her growing sensuality, and drew human males to her like bees to honey.

"Indeed." The smile never left his lips, but suddenly the traces of mirth seemed to be fading from Caelen's eyes as he watched her.

No words passed between them, but with the uncanny ability so prevalent in their species, they had need of none.

Nicolette had assumed him impervious to her girlish seduction. After all, what worked on humans was certainly no guarantee against such an ancient pillar of strength. She thought he would find her child's play amusing; laugh again, perhaps tease…

But she was quickly realizing a small portion of the vastness of her mistake. With the same lethal fluidity she had employed to enchant herself seductress, Caelen had become predator.

The hunger of the hunt was coming off of him in waves, and for a brief second Nicolette considered frantically back-pedalling her advances; But she sensed oddly that the change in him was involuntary. Instinctive.

Curiosity outweighed caution, and Nicolette refused to drop the façade. She leaned in toward him conspiratorially, ignoring the overwhelming sensation of playing with fire.

"You know, I think that's the first time you said my name, _isäntä_. I wasn't entirely sure that you knew what it was."

If his voice held the power to move mountains, hers could eviscerate them, and for a moment Caelen's control frayed. But almost as quickly as it had lifted, something bearing a strong resemblance to and invisible iron barrier slammed between them. The smile that had never quite left Caelen's lips returned in a sinful twist as he got to his feet, brushing past Nicolette coolly.

"_I_ know, little one. But it would be well for _you, enfant,_ to learn caution when courting the devil."


	6. Chapter 6

chap 6

"You will be ready to greet the _Dark One_ this evening, my lord?"

"Hmm?" Gazing out of the heavily tinted window of his meticulously perfect white town car, Caelen found himself being pulled back from very... private... musings. It seemed lately that the vast majority of his thoughts generally involved a certain crimson-stained youth. And not in any mild, passive way. For more than a month Caelen had kept himself away from her, carefully avoiding the deathtrap of obsession he knew she could spring. As he contemplated the situation now, he knew he could remain free if her. Knew he could continue to evade the insanity and unholy lust of a Carpathian for his mate.

Yes, he knew he could, but the now very pre-eminent problem was; he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to.

He knew the principal of lifemates. The dark and light, two halves of a divided soul, bound to be forged again as a whole in salvation. He knew it all and he knew the consequences of defying destiny, and in his analytical mind it had all seemed so simple. Find her. Resurrect his cursed spirit. Spare humanity the depravity of another apocalypse.

But he had been entirely unprepared for the _emotion_ involved in the act.

She wasn't just another ploy on the battlefield of Good and Evil. She was light and she was laughter. Youth. Strength. A passionate source of quiet sage wisdom which forced him to re-evaluate things in a whole new light. She was annoying. Frustrating. Infuriating. Not only with her exasperating wiles, but in being _the reason _he could now _feel _infuriated_. _And many other emotions he had not had to deal with in sixteen hundred years.

As the intruding voice of Dorian Lestrade thrust itself suddenly upon his senses, bringing him out of his silent reverie, Caelen momentarily considered removing the younger Carpathian of his head. Another side effect of 'emotion'.

"Gregori, my lord..." Dorian sounded annoyingly timid when he spoke. Being a mere fifty years old, his massive inferiority complex was further compounded by his constant proximity to the elder's ancient grace. Caelen sighed, too preoccupied to be bothered with such a trifle.

"Yes, and what of him?"

"Well, he arrives tonight, sir, I thought..." Dorian's stuttering trailed off as Caelen nodded absently.

"Of course." He did remember. He had never forgotten. The hunter posed a singular dilemma. As Nicolette's guardian, Gregori held the right to challenge Caelen's claim to the girl. And Caelen could not risk a fight with the other male. He held complete confidence in his own abilities, but Nicolette's affection for the Dark One ran deep. Caelen would be treading on dangerous ground in killing him. He must maintain the girl's trust.

"I assume you had those reports from London sent to my office last night, Lestrade."

In a vain effort to ban the exasperating female from his mind, Caelen turned to business.

"Yes, sir."

The documents, detailed reports of vampire activity in the British Isles, were the latest in a series containing unsavoury news from all corners of the globe. Something was gathering strength behind enemy lines, forcing the filth into organization. An entity powerful enough to harness the undead would not be a simple thing to destroy.

Yet if Caelen's premonitions were right, as they always were, his pupil held the secret to survival.

She was running through the forest. Darkness swirled and danced at the edges of her vision like a living thing. Fog clouded her senses. She was running for her life, pale with the certainty that death was at her heels. Branches reached out like fingers to claw at her hair and fair skin.

The forest faded, and she knew she was inside a building. She couldn't tell exactly, but it seemed to be underground. The place was horrid, dank, dark, filled with the putrid stench of decay. She spun around in a panic, seeing nothing and everything in monochrome, terrified by the lack of colour.

It was coming. She heard the footsteps. Thunder clashed, and she screamed silently. She could feel the breath on her neck, hear the snarls, sense the pure evil of impending doom. Gathering up the last vestiges of her courage, she spun around to face the unseen assailant, crying out in rage as she did so.

Nicolette woke up in a cold sweat, shivering violently. With a gasp she sat bolt upright, sending earth flying from her resting place. There was a soft whimper and something wet and cold pressed against her skin. She jumped, turning to find her little silver companion watching her inquisitively as he burrowed out from the spray of dirt she had showered on him. With a soft cry Nicolette gathered the fuzzy warmth to her breast, holding him tight in relief.

"Oh, it was dream, Trinity." She buried her nose in his fur, breathing out softly to steady her nerves. "Just a bad dream."

The tiny wolf nuzzled her cheek, apparently finding it his job to lick away all non-existent wounds made from clinging branches. Nicolette laughed, suddenly embarrassed by her fear. "Well, you weren't afraid, were you big guy? Come on. I bet you're starving, aren't you honey?"

With a wag of his tail that sent his entire tiny frame wavering, Trinity yipped in agreement and followed her happily out of the underground chamber and up the winding passageway to Caelen's spacious and little-used kitchen.

As she left the serenity of the basement, Nicolette stepped unwittingly into the fading light of sunset streaming through the kitchen windows.

"Oh for the love of - !!" With a hissing yelp she jumped back into the relative protection of shadow, brushing frantically against the burning sensation on her sensitive skin. "It's too _damned _early for normal people!!"

So involved was she in her discomfort, that it took her several minutes to blinkingly notice the two maids and a houseboy standing open-mouthed at the other end of the room. Realizing how horribly odd she must look hopping up and down for no apparent reason, and mentally replaying her misleading allusion to twilight as 'early', she stood still and blushed.

"Ah, heh... Um. Hi." She waved inquiringly at the group in the corner. But apparently they either didn't understand English or she had a basketball glued to the side of her head, because the couldn't stop staring.

"Okay, then..." Limping unobtrusively, Nicolette made her way over to the huge refrigerator and pulled out a massive T-bone steak which she proceeded to unceremoniously dump in Trinity's food dish. All of which was carefully accomplished while nimbly dodging the deadly rays of evening sunlight.

Once she had seen to it that the tiny canine was enjoying a supper twice his size, Nicolette began rummaging around for her own sustenance. Turning to the mute attendants, she cleared her throat in a mock attempt to acquire the undivided attention she was already receiving.

"Excuse me, but do any of you people happen to know where the wine bottles with the little red fleur-de-lis are?"

The houseboy, apparently gaining back some of his senses in front of the mesmerizing girl who had appeared from nowhere, ventured to answer her.

"The '32 vintage, Miss?"

"Uh.. Yeah, If that's what you want to call it..." Nicolette looked decidedly blank. She had no knowledge of anything remotely wine-related.

"But that's over 400 euros a bottle!"

Inside, Nicolette was laughing, but she managed to present a perfectly serious face to the boy. The wine just happened to be Caelen's blood bank, and was worth a hell of a lot more than 400 euros a bottle. For example, it was about to cost this charming young man a replacement portion of his own life force. Nicolette was _starving,_ and he was starting to bear quite a resemblance to a wine glass.

"Well, I didn't know that, but it really is my favourite, and I'm sure Uncle Caelen wouldn't mind."

She had lilted her voice into sweet, sugary tones, and also asserted a position as family to the boss.

Considering himself absolved of any wrongdoing, Nicolette sent the youngster to fetch her prize, silently implanting in his mind the thought that he should bring three bottles to her drawing room on the third floor.

The last, half-empty bottle and an almost-full wine glass rested pensively on the top of a sleekly polished grand piano. Nicolette's fingers danced nimbly over the ivory. The tune she played was haunting and beautiful, thoughtful, reflecting her current mood.

She was preoccupied, her mind listlessly recounting the events of the previous night as her hands wandered aimlessly over the keys. Externally the music was exquisite, but inside her soul was tangled with confusion.

The blood had been excellent. O positive. Delicious. But as soon as she had slaked her thirst, giving her mind momentary respite, questions came tumbling out like stars surfacing when moonlight wanes.

She went over again and again the subtle interchange between herself and the master of the house. She supposed she should be worrying over much more important things, but this was far too intriguing.

At first the terrifying idea of _lifemates _raised its ugly head. It was a logical explanation. But the more she considered it, the less sense it made. With all the time Caelen had had alone with her to exert a claim, there had never been even a hint of such an intention.

And the more she thought about it, the more terrifying the idea became. _Caelen _as her other half? What cruel masters of the universe could have such a cold sense of humour?

Besides, Nicolette was not of age, and in the Carpathian mountains Gregori had kept her very sheltered. In truth, she didn't know how her developing feminine wiles affected Carpathian males. Perhaps Caelen's was a typical reaction. After all, the man had been alone for hundreds of centuries. After a while, that's got to take a toll, right?

With shaky hands she reached for the red-liquid filled glass, draining it in one courage-seeking gulp.

Also, if...(and this was a very very hypothetical if).. he was... well, _that.. _to her, shouldn't she have felt something? Goosebumps in his presence, or electricity at his touch? Or was she being a silly schoolgirl?

As a matter of fact, what had she ever felt for him, saving admiration and respect? Well, alright, there had been a few times she would have been happy to wipe that arrogant smirk forcefully from his perfect face... but that could hardly be counted as affection.

Could it?

No. He wasn't... _They _weren't... Well, they just weren't.

And she was waaay too young to even be thinking about it. What was 17 years of existence compared to 2,060?

And besides, if he could survive all those lonely centuries without turning, who was to say he needed a lifemate? Or had one?

Of course, it fit perfectly; in order to retain his power and honour over the course of time, such a man must be already whole. No lifemates, no complications. Caelen was strongest alone.

Trying her very hardest to be satisfied with her conclusions, Nicolette allowed her fingers to relax and become still over the keys. The haunting melody faded into echoing silence as the tempest in her mind subsided to nothingness. One last note hung on the air as she stood, gathering the bottle and glass from the glossy black surface. They clinked together in her hand, and she poured herself another cup of scarlet sustenance.

The bottled blood was fine for nourishment, but Nicolette was slowly being overcome by the need to hunt. That was one of many things which differentiated her from the other females of her kind. Female Carpathians were gentle, kind and loving, not the rapacious seductresses that movies and books portrayed.

But Nicolette was. Deep down she enjoyed her predatory nature, and tonight that shadowed disposition was coming out to play.


	7. Chapter 7

"Does my Lord have any special plans tonight, Edward?"

Nicolette sprawled lazily across the length of a satin loveseat in one of the elegant mansion's drawing rooms. Her voice held a taint of lilting haughty wit as she addressed Caelen's human assistant. She was bored, and enjoyed toying with him. "I've really never seen the house so.. alive_…_"

In a shocked panic Edward turned on her, making her do a double take of his apoplectic countenance.

"What?? You do not know, miss? My Lord expects an important guest! From _Mademoiselle's_ homeland! A_ Monsieur Daratrazanoff_, I believe. Very important to his Excellency. Surely my Lord had you informed…?"

There was hope in his last question, Edward clearly wishing there had been some mistake. He had gone to no small trouble for the night's festivities, and wanted no complications. Nicolette turned away from him, her quiet voice suddenly not so playful.

"Surely he did not."

* * *

For a moment Nicolette allowed herself a dramatic entrance. The old cliché, appearing at the top of Caelen's ridiculously expensive gold-inlayed staircase with her crimson curls swept up high, red lips curved suggestively, and her body cloaked in a smoky silver satin dress; one of her own creation which positively _dripped_ over her form with wispy lusciousness.

Yes for a moment she enjoyed the old-fashioned femininity, but the moment she spied Gregori she found herself running in a decidedly un-elegant fashion down the afore-mentioned staircase and into his arms with a very girlish squeal of delight.

Caelen, on Gregori's right, watched the whole display with what Nicolette was sure was an air of disapproval, but she didn't care.

Gregori, the dark one, bogeyman of the Carpathians, caught his shimmering bundle of excitement with a laugh, and set her back on her feet.

"Are you so happy to see me, _enfante, _that you would risk breaking a leg in your haste? Patience, little one. I see that is one thing my Lord has yet to teach you."

"Alas, Gregori, it is true." Caelen inclined his head in assent, placing the appropriate smile of shared amusement on his perfect face. "But, how can you expect me to succeed where you have failed?"

"You two!" Nicolette shot both of them a dirty look, and then a smile as she placed one arm in the crook of Gregori's, and reached for Caelen with the other. She felt his hesitation, and smirked inwardly. Perhaps some small public humiliation would help _his Excellency_'s memory when it came to important houseguests.

"But really, I do think that is the only thing he _hasn't_ taught me. Honestly, Gregori. I've improved so much! I'm sure I'm more than a match for you now." She flashed a conspiratorial wink and grinned as she pulled both men into the crowd. Gregori laughed again, and placed a hand on her arm.

"I am sure you are, _cherie, _but perhaps we could wait to test that theory some other time."

"Yes, I do not believe our company would understand such a spectacle." With a cool politeness, Caelen disentangled his immaculate sleeve from Nicolette's grip. "If you would excuse me, _mademoiselle,_ I should allow you time alone with your guest."

Nicolette watched with some slight annoyance as Caelen disappeared in the crowd. She felt oddly jilted. Miffed. Thwarted of her chance to punish him for his secretiveness.. And…. Lonely.

But it was foolish to feel lonely while family was at her side. With a glittering smile she turned away from Caelen's lithe, retreating form, and immediately pummelled Gregori with a million questions about Savannah and the girls.

* * *

He had thought he was impervious. Above the wiles and appeal of childish innocence… and perhaps he had been while she was his alone. But her sickening display of affection for the other male was driving him insane. It shouldn't be. Gregori was lifemated and safe, but that did not matter in Caelen's clouded mind. A clashing haze of darkness was covering his senses, bubbling even now as he watched of her pale white hand on his arm, her body moving against Gregori's solid, muscled frame as they danced a third waltz together.

From his reclined vantage point hidden deep in a shadowed alcove, Caelen watched with predatory eyes. He was far enough away that the noise and smells of the throng blocked her voice and scent from his senses. His eyes shifted slightly as, from a great distance, he saw Gregori lean close to her, whispering, and lead her out of sight.

For a half-moment he considered going after them, but with a vast amount of self restraint, he declined. Blowing out a tormented breath, Caelen lay back on the mountain of satin cushions. His silver hair fanned out lightly, for a moment not falling perfectly in place, and his emerald eyes closed.

He could feel her. Touch her hair, caress her milky skin, run his thumb across her soft, soft cheek. Bury his nose in her neck. _Taste _her.

The need was too strong. A moan escaped lips drawn back in silent agony, exposing teeth lengthening into deadly fangs, and immediately he was ashamed. But it did not matter. His eyes opened and his head snapped up with the alertness of a hunter at the first trace of movement beyond the curtains.

Sensing prey in his clouded state, Caelen smiled, devilishly charming, and sent out an open invitation. A woman stepped into the room. Tall and sophisticated, in her mid-thirties. Blonde. Beautiful. _Delicious._ She walked in a trance, her eyes glazed with a hypnotic reverie as she approached. Caelen maintained eye contact, his head cocked gently to the side, beckoning.

The woman came, unresisting to sweet temptation, and stood over him. She looked down, her eyes glassy but filled with a driven intensity mirrored in her captor's gaze. There was a soft ripping of fabric as she raised the skirt of her sequined azure dress, exposing a shapely leg as she settled herself seductively over his lap, leaving a smear of scarlet lipstick along his pristine white collar.

Caelen growled, running one hand suggestively along her exposed calf, thigh, hip, waist, breast, and higher, across the throbbing pulse at her neck, the heartbeat whose rhythm pounded in his ears.

At his heated touch at the nape of her neck, the woman threw her head back wantonly, pleading, a disgustingly shameless puppet subject to his maniacal will.

With a purely animalistic snarl Caelen sunk fang in flesh, feeding without thought or care, the heinous, gratuitous whimpers of his prey heightening the feral pleasure of the act.

And, from her unseen place in shadow, Nicolette saw it all.


	8. Chapter 8

-

A/N all right, new chappie! bon appetite, mon ami.

-

-

-

She saw it all, and was sickened, and mesmerized.

Absently, she tried to tear herself away from the spectacle. But it was impossible. For months now she had seen him passively; always sensing the demon, but never allowed to witness it. Caelen, so fair where darkness prevailed, always appeared to emanate light; a radiance around his presence bespeaking purity.

But in the shadows of these haunted halls, Nicolette could not detect this light, this purity. She saw his hand at the woman's neck, coaxing and calming, and to her it seemed insidious. He was darkness itself, and as she watched, she felt her own predator raise a dangerous head in the night to answer his call.

Nicolette felt the fangs lengthening inside her mouth, and her upper lip turned back in a snarl as lethal as it was lustfully venomous. Immediately she twisted away, sensing the end of Caelen's hazed voracity, and began moving silently among shadows with an inborn stealth she did not know she possessed. She wasn't thinking entirely clearly, she felt the red haze taking control of her mind, effectually making her a prisoner inside her own body. She had strength enough mask her presence. Even the strength of Gregori could not find her when she wished not to be found.

Nicolette had watched, read the woman's intentions as she followed Caelen to the alcove, and knew the little witch held _something _like this in mind. Forget the spell Caelen had woven, the woman would probably have been the same without. An insidious wretch begging for death at the hands of evil. Helpless, wanton, weak.

It was revolting.

She despised that woman. No, _hated _her_. __How dare she?_

A snarl of viciousness was left resounding in her mind with sharp clarity, but Nicolette could not recognize her own voice.

Ignoring all else in the room, Nicolette stood invisibly in a far corner, shivering with internal conflict. She didn't understand. For a moment she felt the striking urge to run, but at the same instant something else forced itself to her attention. A sickly sweet scent, a horrible stench that made her stomach curl. It drifted toward her, wafting over her with waves of nausea.

Nicolette turned her head in the direction of the offence. She moved slowly, uncertainly, and her wide eyes glowed with some fearful thing that was not quite sanity.

She took a breath and let go of reality, becoming the merest suggestion of a presence, like air through space, a silky hint of danger, wispy glacial coldness the only evidence of her passing.

With complete silence Nicolette materialized behind her prey. Her red lips twisted in something that could have been a smile, and she drew herself up to her full, elegant height. She held her curly scarlet head haughtily, and a good several inches above the other, older woman's golden frame.

Gently, her fingers as light as mist, Nicolette raised a hand to the woman's shoulder, and as she touched, her mind broke into the human's weakly guarded thoughts. Nicolette caught a random flash of memory, skin on skin, unrelenting need. She felt it, the pleasure, the desire. The piquant remnants of licentious, shameless lust left Nicolette feeling vaguely dirty.

A slow anger was building in her, bubbling hot and scalding. Nicolette seemed to see through a crimson haze. Her fingers on the blonde's shoulder tightened in an unbreakable death grip, and with an impossible strength Nicolette found herself hurling her victim into one of the many decorative marble pillars which encircled the room.

Screams immediately emanated from the crowd, and all merriment ceased as Nicolette stepped out of the shadows to stand over her prey. With one long, slow motion Nicolette motioned for the woman's crumpled form and held her at arm's length, levitating eerily in mid-air before the crowd. More screams erupted, and the mortals backed cautiously away from the horrendous spectacle, but they seemed oddly unable to tear their gaze away.

Nicolette paid them not the slightest heed. Her eyes glowed with a positively ominous evil as her pale, perfect fingers encircled the terrified woman's neck. Soundlessly she took a step forward, drawing herself up in height and supernatural grace. The wispy folds of her dress made a soft rustling over the marble floor.

Words snaked out through the room as if Nicolette personally whispered them intimately into the ear of every person present; though, in truth, her lips did not move.

_You've out-stepped your boundaries, mon ami. _Nicolette's fingers tightened, and the woman's eyes grew large and luminous in the half-light.

_Come, come, cherie. Do not struggle._

Warm breath feathered over the ill-fated woman's skin; skin dark in sensuous contrast to Nicolette's ivory fingers and pearly smile_. _

_Embrace the death you so eagerly sought. This is the evil you invited to your breast. Has it now lost its charm?_

Her voice was a symphony of beautiful song and taunting innocence, the spell it contained captivating her audience and her prey; giving heed to a deftly hidden compulsion. The woman's demise was now a natural thing. She had committed an unforgivable offence, and now must repent.

The red lips so sensuously twisted in sinful amusement now suddenly parted as Nicolette snarled, her incisors lengthening into fangs which gleamed a ferocious white as they flashed once and sunk deep. The building fury she held had reached breaking point, and she lost herself to it with thoughtless abandon_._

Horrible, choking, mind-numbing fear would be the last sensation that the blonde Abigail D. Morgan felt in this world.

-

May she have better luck in the next.


	9. Chapter 9

With each fading throb of the pulse beneath her hand, and each strangled, laboured breath, Nicolette seemed to come back into herself. With the death of the woman her anger had abated, and horror was allowed to begin taking its place.

Screams and hysteria erupted impossibly loud in the hall as the compulsion was released. Nicolette stood for a moment, sanity slowly returning to her blood-hazed eyes. She tilted her head and looked confusedly at the body she held pinned by the neck, and felt herself turning incomparably sick.

The sound of pounding feet and human panic beat at her, and Nicolette dropped the corpse as though it burned. On shaky legs she backed away, bringing a hand up to her mouth. It came away covered in blood, and she shuddered. The darkness in her which had dictated the taking of this blood had tainted it, and Nicolette felt it coursing through her veins like a toxin, painting a black and ugly stain across her soul.

Terror hit her then, and she cried out, stumbling back, away from the evidence of her evil. _How could she do such a thing? She had broken every law. Every moral code._With the unorthodox exit of the panicking guests complete, Nicolette became aware of Gregori and Caelen. They had appeared silently on either side of her, and did not now speak. She felt the demanding, powerful mental probe of the first, and instinctively blocked it.

"What have you done, _enfante_?" Only Gregori's eyes displayed the depths of his dismay. Nicolette felt shame.

"Why did you not stop me?" Her voice was impossibly quiet; a heart-breaking lament. Nicolette swallowed, hating how utterly helpless she suddenly felt.

"We could not. You erected safe-guards, force fields of a like I have never seen. Explain yourself, Nicolette, or I shall be forced to take action."

Nicolette remained silent. Gregori snarled. _You have broken one of our most sacred laws, little one. It is forbidden to kill while feeding; and the crime is doubly great when you threaten your own soul. Do you not know the value of our women? Do you not know the punishment for this trespass? Speak now, so I may enlighten you. _

Gregori's voice held a dark promise, and Nicolette flinched. It was true, she had betrayed Gregori's trust, betrayed their people, helped condemn their race to extinction.

"I can offer no excuse for my behaviour, _isä_. I do know the punishment for my crime. I commit myself to the justice of our people."

Nicolette dropped to her knees slowly, her blood-stained palms lying folded in her lap, her head bowed. If she was a monster, then let her be destroyed. She would gladly accept the loss of her own life if it meant the death of that darkness. She felt unworthy of life. The two proud men before her had existed centuries with honour and dignity, while in the space of one sordid evening she had unleashed hell. It would be best to let Gregori finish this; and find an end to the pain of her dying soul.

"Good God, Gregori. Have you taught the poor child nothing of importance?"

As a quiet, lurking shadow, Caelen had scanned her mind and found himself choking back a smile at her genuine naïveté. Her innocence was as adorable as it was heart-breaking. Now he stepped forward, placing himself quietly between Gregori's menacing figure and Nicolette's small frame. Gregori bristled.

"The education of a child under my guidance is not a task I take lightly, Von Traske. But if she persists in this vile behaviour, I admit it is very clear that I have failed." Gregori turned his smouldering silver gaze onto a penitent Nicolette. His anger washed over her, and through her Caelen felt the heartrending desolation Gregori's words caused. His emerald eyes flashed, and he stepped forward, forcing Gregori's attention back to himself.

"You will forgive me, my friend, if I do not allow you to continue torturing my lifemate with empty threats. She is young and unaware of her strength. It is entirely my own oversight which has led to this evening's... _festivities_."

Silence fell and echoed as though Caelen had just fired a machinegun in close quarters. Nicolette's bowed head came up. Shock lanced through Gregori's icy stare, and then returned to smouldering fury.

"Come to me, Nicolette. We are leaving." Gregori's words were a cold statement. Caelen smiled, and reached for Nicolette's mind.

_Remain where you are, csitri. _Her hurt and obvious confusion were paramount, and it was clear that she was torn between the two of them, yet she did not move to rise. Caelen felt pride, and brushed her cheek encouragingly with an invisible thumb. Gregori snarled, sending every impression of impending doom towards the older Carpathian. He moved slowly to circle Caelen, showing the over-protectiveness which is only natural of a father for his child.

"You seek to break every law of our race in one night, Von Traske?"

Caelen remained still, refusing to be drawn into to age-old ritual dance of opponents. Only his eyes followed Gregori's circling form.

"No, my friend. One such as I should know better than to break the laws of our Prince before the eyes of his executioner." Caelen held up a placating hand to the circling hunter. "I hold great respect for you, Gregori. It is true that many great crimes have been committed this night, and you would be well within your right to strike me down for these trespasses. But consider first, my brother, the existence to which you would condemn your ward. Do you not remember the darkness which consumes our lonely centuries? The loss of colour? The loss of love and happiness? Do you wish this upon your child?"

There was a soft iron, a very deeply hidden compulsion in Caelen's words, and Gregori shrugged it away with venom. "Do not think to manipulate me, my lord. Listen to your own words, Von Traske. My child. Yes, a child. A babe, a fledgling! She is not old enough yet to accept your claim, nor knowledgeable enough to refuse it."

_"What you say has truth, Dark One. She is very young. But have not you yourself seen her strength? Her distinction from other fledglings? Indeed, my friend, it is her youth which makes her remarkable. She has greatness in her which you cannot comprehend. Can you in truth blame me for disregarding tradition, Gregori? Did not you yourself disregard the laws of our fathers as you sought your own Savannah?"_

"You go too far, Von Traske." An ugly snarl twisted Gregori's lip. Although the words of the ancient spoke deeply to Gregori, he could not quietly accept having the indiscretions of his past thrown in his face.

_Is what you say true, my lord? _

The soft question surprised him, and Caelen turned. Nicolette had risen to her feet and stood quietly watching the two ancients who had ceased to circle and stood poised to strike. Although Caelen was a good four inches taller than Gregori, Nicolette had not noticed until now, as he sought to exert his dominance over the other male.

_It is, csitri. _

As she had succeeding in gaining their attention, Nicolette stepped between them. Caelen inclined his head toward her with Old World elegance as he stepped back to accommodate her. Nicolette found her legs oddly shaky, and she wasn't entirely sure they could support her weight. She felt Caelen come forward slightly to lend his strength, and turned away.

With silent dignity Nicolette stood before Gregori, her adopted father, the man who had guided and loved and taught her since infancy. She looked him in the eye, allowing her gaze to convey the whole of her sorrow and confusion. With fluid grace she dropped to one knee before him, her head bowed in the age-old tribute of their kind. Words were not needed as the unspoken plea passed between them. Tears left soft streaks down Nicolette's cheek. It was clear that words would only lead to violence between the two men, and Nicolette was suddenly certain that the only option she had was to remain with Caelen. Could Gregori not see? She held no more understanding of her powers and actions than he did. It was clear that she was now volatile and dangerous, but why she did not know. The only thing which remained certain, was that if something as simple as a wayward human could shatter her control, she had no choice but to stay and discover why.

Gregori placed a hand atop Nicolette's curly head in silent assent.

"You are certain, _enfante_?"

The curly head bobbed as Gregori pulled Nicolette into a warm embrace. Caelen, however, remained on the receiving end of his darkest glare, the impression of which remained even as Gregori used his supernatural speed to fade from sight.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N yay!! it's a new chappie! lol. enjoy, my dearies. **

Nicolette stood, her arms hugging herself against the night as she watched the dark streak of Gregori dwindle into nothing. Caelen watched her, keeping a suitable distance between them physically, but reaching out to her thoughts with assurance.

_You will go to ground, little one. You are exhausted._

_No. _Although she was by now perfectly accustomed to following Caelen's orders, Nicolette had no intention of sleeping peacefully after such a night. She turned on him, allowing her frustration to vent itself. "No, I will not. You have some serious explaining to do, _isäntä_. What the _hell_ was that? Can you not leave my father alone for _one_ night? Are you totally incapable of maintaining even the _**illusion**_ of sanity?!"

The small outburst sapped what little energy she had left. Her legs buckled, and Nicolette felt herself falling. But she never hit the floor. Instead, she felt a Caelen's arm at her waist, supporting her, and his soft breath on her cheek. With indignation, Nicolette pushed at him, trying to stand on her own, but it was like trying to shove cement. Caelen wouldn't budge, and Nicolette sighed with resignation. She knew much, much better than to fight him. He was too tall and too strong and unyielding. He knew, he always knew. There was not a question Caelen couldn't answer, a problem he could not solve. Already Nicolette felt shame for her words. After all, what had he done especially wrong? Was feeding such a crime? Or talking? True, his words had _almost_ provoked a duel of ancients, but that had been avoided. Indeed, he had only interfered with Gregori on her behalf, and the interference had only been necessary because of her own indiscretion.

The trail of Nicolette's thoughts took a vicious turn, and she moaned a quiet obscenity against his shoulder. Caelen gathered her up with one smooth movement, as though she really were the babe he and Gregori so clearly believed her to be, and began striding confidently across the room. Nicolette collapsed against him entirely, feeling small and helpless. Suddenly she wasn't so sure she should have asked Gregori to leave.

_Yes, cherie, you should. It was best for all concerned. I could not have promised the safety of his life had he remained. _

The sudden recognition of Caelen's unwanted presence in her mind sparked Nicolette's impulsive temper, but she allowed confusion to outweigh indignation, for she was too tired to protest. She closed her eyes.

_Why must I choose between you? _

Her usually perky and slightly smart-alecky persona had fled. Nicolette sounded small and lost. Caelen heard the note of sadness in her, and favoured her childlike innocence with a benevolent tenderness.

_Between your father and myself?_

_No, between you and Prince Mikhail. Who do you think?_

The sarcasm in her voice was accompanied by a small thump of her fist on his chest. The corner of Caelen's mouth twitched. So much for innocence and benevolence. Out of habit they had slipped back into the more comfortable roles of student and mentor, and he accepted it; realizing that she needed a safe return to normality after the night's events.

_It is merely the way of our kind, little one. Each hunter carries the darkness in his soul. He feels the taint of it burn and scar with every kill, every sin. It is a horrible burden, of such greatness you cannot conceive. It is only natural that, once that veil is lifted, one values even more the precious gifts he possesses. _

'burn and scar…' Nicolette shivered, considering his words for a long moment, allowing the images to dance in her imagination. It was exactly what she felt. Like the blood of the woman had poisoned her; burned a hole in her heart that would forever be scarred.

_How do you know of these things, isäntä? You were never a hunter._

_Was I not? _Caelen paused in the middle of the ever-darkening hallway to let his green eyes wander her face with a lackadaisical intensity hidden behind amusement. _How can you be so certain?_

_Well, _Nicolette felt her cheeks grow warm. She ducked away from his glowing gaze, but only to find her cheek pressed against his chest, and her nose filled with the quiet scent of him. It was suddenly overwhelming, and she pulled away, defiance in the set of her jaw and the light of her eyes.

_I asked Gregori about you. He and the Prince are almost ten centuries old, and he says you__'__ve always been a scholar and healer._

_Indeed._ Caelen continued his progress through the underground tunnels, satisfied with her reaction. She may be afraid of him, and terrified of herself, but she hadn't backed down. It gave him hope. _I suppose that, in his lifetime, it is true. But you must remember, enfante, I was ten centuries old when Gregori was born. _

_Wow. _Nicolette blinked, the realization working to cleanse the haze of her senses. He really did bring new meaning to the word 'ancient'….

Caelen paused again in the darkness, and turned towards an apparently blank stretch of dirt wall. But it wasn't quite blank. Closer inspection by superior eyesight would reveal tiny, intricate gold symbols which were only visible when the light caught them just right. With his mind, Caelen waved away a large section of the earth wall to reveal Nicolette's spacious sleeping chamber. She relaxed back into him, sinking as far as she could from the sudden light which assaulted her eyes from a dozen candles as relief hit her. She realized suddenly that she had both expected and dreaded being taken _elsewhere_ in the mansion… namely, perhaps _his_ master suite…

As Caelen crossed the floor to Nicolette's large mound of dark loam (which vaguely resembled a king-sized human bed), he caught the stray image in her mind. Soft, masculine laughter ran down Nicolette's back, and she felt a very, _very_ involuntary shiver of excitement. There was a soft thunk as her open palm connected with his chest in indignant protest, and then a short squeak of fright as his arms seemed to vanish from under her in retaliation; allowing her to fall. But only for a heartbeat. Instantly, Nicolette's arms had found his neck and tightened around it in fear, even as her knees found the softness of the earth-bed in her short fall.

Feeling only the slightest bit ridiculous, Nicolette pulled her face out of his neck, laughing. With the lightest amount of pink dusting her cheeks, she looked up at him, surprised to see the sudden seriousness that had replaced amusement in his haunting green eyes.

The laugh died on her lips, and she caught her breath. He was close enough to kiss her nose, and strands of his silver hair had fallen forward to tangle with her own dark red curls and quiver with each breath that left her lips. Nicolette's gazed traveled up from the dancing silver across his perfect skin to those evocative emerald eyes. She felt drawn in by them, and held fiercely when she would have turned away. She felt in a trance, but not held by his power, rather, betrayed by her own body.

Nicolette knew she could break the spell whenever she wanted to, but the problem was, she didn't. It amazed her. She looked at him without fear, and brushed a strand of silver from his lips with the pad of her thumb. Out of almost casual curiosity, she replaced the thumb with her mouth, the kiss softer than summer's first breath. Instinctively Caelen leaned into it ever-so-slightly, and the merest hint of a snarl graced his lips as she drew away. Nicolette's head dropped.

"Am I still a child, my Lord?"

Silence met her question, as if the sound of her voice had shattered the glass framework of their momentary intimacy into a thousand shards. She lifted her eyes to meet his gaze, and tilted her head questioningly. _I want to know. What do you see when you look at me? Is it the child you called to with a wolf__'__s cry? The monster you summoned with desolation? You dwell in my mind with the shadows, and I know nothing of you. You__'__ve made a murderess of me. Would you demand my obedience and respect, my trust, and yet keep the secrets of my own soul? _

A note of tentativeness entered her voice, and Nicolette faltered, wanting to turn away.

_What have you done to me?_

She made it a question, instead of an accusation… But Caelen heard the underlying agony, and guilt was like a bucket of cold water in his handsome, composed face. He was amazed that he could feel guilt, but it was there, gnawing and ugly. Pushing it down forcibly, Caelen drew back from the scarlet temptation. She deserved answers.

"It is nothing physically that I have done, enfante. It is the way of our kind, a natural reaction. It is our defence against extinction."

He stood away from her now. Separate, tall, alone, still within reach, yet untouchable when her heart would cry out to hold him. So intense was the momentary impulse, that Nicolette found herself tangling her fingers tightly in the folds of her dress to keep from reaching out. She swallowed, her gaze focusing intently on the silver satin in her hands.

"Extinction?"

"Yes." With a quiet complacence, Caelen watched her methodical crumpling of the silver material. "If a soul remains forever torn, it will, eventually, fade."

"So, you're saying that we'll _die _if we don't…….. um……" Nicolette blushed a crimson to rival the shade of her hair, and a slight note of incredulity entering her voice. "Well, forgive me if that seems a little unbelievable."

"No, we would not die, _csitri_. It is not so simple. The strain of resistance, of denial, would wear away your defences. It would weaken you, torture you, persist until the pain of it shatters the last vestiges of your sanity and control; just as it would to me. We would not die, little one, because I know of a certainty that _I_ would not have the strength to endure temptation." Caelen's voice had faded to the softest of sounds, but it was still forceful. Nicolette found herself believing every word, as fantastic as his claims seemed.

"Well… you certainly haven't tried to sugar-coat it for me, have you?" There was the ghost of a smile on her lips, but it did not mirror on his own.

"No, _csitri_. I cannot lie to you. We would come together in violence. I no longer have the will to face the dawn, nor the right to condemn you to such a torn fate if I should do so. The existence you would face is no life, little one, merely surviving." In the flickering light of the candles surrounding them, Caelen reached down and caught her chin with his thumb and forefinger. The horror of his words were belied by the gentleness of his voice. "This is the truth, Nicolette. I offer you access to my thoughts, my memories, so that you may look and know for yourself that it is so."

With the softest of touches, Nicolette brushed his mind with her own. She found it open, as he said. Nothing was hidden. The whole of his life was opened before her, every sin, every kill, every lesson learned, every childhood nightmare. For a moment Nicolette was severely tempted to thoroughly search his mind, to learn everything, to haunt his deepest, darkest secrets… to satisfy her curiosity. But her first discovery quickly dispelled that compulsion. It was a memory, a beautiful memory. The first time she had connected with him, as a child. Nicolette saw herself through his eyes. The silver wolf following a scent; the beautiful, curly-haired, fair-skinned baby who sat among a field of daisies in the twilight of a summer night. The sudden blinding flash of color, the lifting of that horrible, strangling darkness which had somehow become second nature. She watched herself grow up, and felt in him the growth of oppressive desire which had replaced darkness; the double-edged sword of newfound emotion.

Taking a deep breath, Nicolette pulled away, opening her eyes back into reality. She blinked, finding herself looking straight into emerald intensity. Taking a sudden assurance from her discoveries, Nicolette drew herself up to her knees on the bed. A smile turned the corners of her mouth as she brought his hand to her lips.

"Well," she whispered, "As much as I would love to see the Great Caelen Von Traske lose his ever-so-suffocating self-control…" She paused, her breath feathering his skin with warmth. Her raspberry lips moved slowly against the back of his hand as she spoke. Laughter glinted in her eyes. "I don't think we can risk it."

"Indeed." Caelen seemed to be preoccupied with the particular circular motion of her tongue.

With a sudden audacity she did not know she possessed, Nicolette reached up, took a firm handful of the front of his shirt, and pulled.

-

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**oooooh, how badly do you want to turn the page?? lol. There'll be another chapter soon. Leave me a review if you like what you read!**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N Well, here you are. Thanks guys, I luv your feedback.**

She was quite sure that it was only the shock of her actions that unbalanced him, and not her physical strength, but it didn't matter. Whatever worked, Caelen found himself suddenly and unceremoniously sprawled the length of the her, his nose in her shoulder, and the heat of her soft, svelte form trapped beneath him. Moving slowly, he picked up the upper half of his body, a look of undignified astonishment gracing his gorgeous face. Nicolette laughed, her hand coming up to trace the strong line of his jaw with a fingertip.

"Why, _isäntä_, I do believe you've just fallen for me." The light of amusement sparkled in Nicolette's eyes, which were suddenly a startling shade of scarlet.

"Have I?"

Caelen seemed to say the words without thinking, his voice a rough caress as he surveyed his prey.

The candlelight which filled the chamber flickered softly, illuminating the softness of her skin with a warm glow. The crimson curls of her hair fell softly against the red satin of the pillow beneath her head, matching perfectly the shade of her lips, and perfectly contrasting the delicate porcelain of her skin. There was a soft shadow in the hollow of her collarbone, and the swell of her breasts showed just above the edge of her wispy silver dress. The hint of a smile still played around those soft lips, and Nicolette tapped his chin with a gentle finger. She had played the seductress, but now found her confidence draining, bleeding out into the loam on which she lay, as Caelen's emerald eyes seemed to wander over her with frightening concentration.

Tentatively, she laid her hand against his cheek, and felt a flood of relief, followed by excitement, as he turned to kiss her palm, the intense green of his eyes momentarily shadowed. With her other hand, she reached up to pull his head down until their noses touched. Caelen's hair fell forward in a silver curtain, shielding them from view. Nicolette let out a soft breath that she did not know she had been holding, and absently wondered if Trinity were anywhere in the room. For some reason this scene was not something she wanted the silver pup to witness. It was not something she wanted anyone to witness. It was personal. Private...

"Nicolette." Caelen whispered the word aloud. Somehow his voice seemed to convey urgency and tenderness at the same time. Her eyes snapped open at the sound, and scarlet met emerald in a colourful clash.

In submissive response to his unspoken command, Nicolette brought her chin up to meet his kiss. There seemed no more time for summer breezes. He was not gentle. The insistence, the resolve, the _need_ of it shocked her. His fingers stroked her collarbone in a coaxing motion, and Nicolette complied, arching her neck to allow him better access to his claim on her mouth.

He had not lied. She could feel the intensity almost as though it radiated from him, and it bordered on violence.

With a moan that was quickly swallowed away, Nicolette ran her hands up his arms. She was almost surprised to feel the strength in them, the muscle roped and taut, yet without the burly bulkiness reminiscent of Gregori. She found herself wishing his shirt away, and felt it vanish beneath her hands.

She allowed her fingers to continue their exploration of his torso with appreciation. While he was considerably more trim and lithe than the Dark One, Caelen still had an impressive physique. Nicolette murmured in approval as the power in his shoulders rippled under her touch. Caelen growled.

A squeak of astonishment escaped her lips as she felt her own clothing vanish. And not just the top layer, as she had removed his, but _all_ of it. She blushed, modesty kicking in, and she was perversely glad that his body blanketed hers, hiding her from total exposure. But the hard evidence of his arousal pressed against her thigh suddenly made her realize that the concealment was a double edged weapon. She gasped as he kissed the corner of her mouth and surreptitiously sank his incisor into her bottom lip. The taste of blood hazed her senses, and she could feel the darkness which beat at him, which beat at her; and the hunger, and pain. Nicolette felt suddenly overwhelmed. She couldn't breathe.

_.. I-.. Isäntä..._

She called out to him, and when he didn't respond, she placed her hands against his chest and pushed. But he didn't seem to notice. She felt like she was drowning, suffocating, being crushed_..._

_Caelen!_

She felt him come back to himself with a jolt, lifting himself up and allowing air to flow back into her deflated lungs. She closed her eyes and saw color spots. A sudden chill seemed to come over her, and she was glad when she felt herself being swept up and held close.

__

That was, perhaps, not exactly the way in which I had hoped you would use my first name, little one.

A soft kiss was pressed to her forehead, and she recognized a chant of soothing murmur. The rise and fall of Caelen's chest seemed to match her own accelerated heart rate as he lay beside her. His hand stroked her hair in long, patient strokes, and Nicolette felt shame. Her nose found the hollow of his collarbone, and she breathed in his calming scent. It was odd to see him this way; he was no longer the unapproachable mentor, but the reassuring whisper in her sub-conscious. The wisdom of ages at her fingertips. The tortured soul that was hers to mend... And she had failed him.

"I'm sorry."

He laughed. Not loud laugh, more of a soft chuckle that sounded like chocolate.

"_You're sorry, _Nicolette?" He tilted her chin up to look at him, and smiled. It took her breath away. "Is it possible for one to be so innocent? I dwell in your mind, little one, yet I cannot understand how it works."

He kissed her, and Nicolette blinked in shock. Caelen's voice was a husky whisper in her ear as he continued to stroke her curls.

"The fault is entirely mine, Nicolette. You require time, and you shall have it. I have failed to put your needs before my own, and I apologize."

For a moment there was silence as she digested this information, and then Nicolette pushed herself up to a semi sitting position, carefully wrapping the scarlet silk sheet around herself modestly.

"Alright. First, _this_ is for eavesdropping on my thoughts. Can't a girl have a _little _privacy?" There was a soft, solid _thunk_ of flesh hitting flesh. "And second, why the hell do 'my needs' come before yours? I'm not some weakling, I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself. That's just some 'Old World' male chauvinist thing."

"No, it isn't, csitri. It has always been the privilege of the male to care for the female. You are purity and light, you are to be cherished and protected." As if to emphasize his point, he placed a hand at the back of her neck, massaging the tension there with gentle, hypnotizing strokes.

Nicolette shrugged it away. "Okay, well fine, but doesn't that go both ways? Can't _I_ protect _you_?"

Caelen's lips twitched in amusement. "Yes, to a degree. But, little one, I am the eldest, and the strongest, and therefore, it is my lead we will be following."

Nicolette wrinkled her nose. "Ooooh, that is _so _Stone Age. Besides, I'm not sure that you _are_ the strongest."

Caelen laughed.

"Would you like me to demonstrate?"

Without batting an eyelash, he reached out and scooped her up, tossing her lightly about a foot into the air like a feather, and catching her gently in his arms.

With a squeak and a grin, Nicolette settled into his lap.

"Alright, fine, you win. But don't _ever_ do that again." She blew out a breath and became abruptly serious. "And, I _am_ sorry, Caelen. Should I not even _apologize _if I can't meet the requirements of my mate?"

Caelen looked at her for a long moment, his head cocked.

_You accept me as your mate?_

The question caught her off guard. What else had she been doing all evening, if not accepting him? Inviting him into her bed, and sending Gregori away? Killing a woman in a blind, jealous rage? She supposed that she hadn't actually said the words...

And she unexpectedly realized that she _needed_ to say them. That the actual _words_ were as important as her physical submission. This realization was followed by a warm, fuzzy feeling. He needed her acceptance. It was simple enough, but it made her feel... well, what was the word? Special? Cherished, perhaps? Certainly not... _Loved_?

"I do, Caelen. I really think that I do." She sighed contentedly, and laid her head on his shoulder. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Caelen wrapped one long arm around her waist, firmly anchoring her to him, his chin resting atop her curly head. "Tell you what, csitri?"

Sleepiness was settling over her like a blanket, making her breathing slow and eyelids droop. "That you were so close to turning."

Caelen's fingers stilled in her hair. He was surprised; he was not used to having his secrets so casually shared. _You can tell?_

_Of course I can. _

_**How, **little one?_ Shock registered in Caelen's green eyes. She had seen his soul? He had shared his memories with her, but only a few benign selections. There were shadows in his mind, and he kept them hidden. He did not truly believe that she could have seen them, especially not without a blood exchange.

_Well, I don't know. It's just right there. You showed me your soul, and I saw it._

_What else did you see?_

There was a soft murmur against his shoulder, and he could hear the sleep in her voice.

"Enough. And nothing to change my mind, big boy, although there are a few girls in your memory that I would love to strangle. It's just too bad that most of them died of old age before Leonardo Da Vinci."

He laughed. There was a soft sigh, and Nicolette snuggled closer to him. Calmly, he began to rearrange the loam on which they lay, hollowing out the customary grave-like resting place of their kind.

_Say them, Caelen._

_Say what, csitri?_

_The ritual words. It's driving me insane. If they run through your mind one more time, I think I might say them for you._

His hand stopped in mid-wave, causing a large amount of levitating soil to freeze in mid air.

"Do you know what you ask, Nicolette?"

_Yes, and if being bound to you for eternity becomes to loathsome, I can always choose the dawn. You don't give me enough credit, isäntä. _She smiled into his shoulder, and mentally directed the wayward earth to settle gently over their resting place. _And_, _I like it when you call me 'Nicolette'. 'Little one' and 'Csitri' make me feel about four years old._

Caelen's amusement brushed her mind. _You're right. Seventeen years is such a far cry from four. _

Nicolette poked him solidly in the chest. _Hey, it's no twenty-something decades, but I'm happy with it. Do I look like a kid to you?_

He smiled, nuzzling his nose into her hair. _No, Nicolette. You are, most definitely, a woman._

_Good. Now say the words before I slap you again. I need my nap. _

He could feel her drifting off.. The long fingers of exhaustion encircling her consciousness.

_Mmmm._

Humility came over Caelen, and he had to take a moment to recognize the feeling. He was awed by her trust, and he knew he didn't deserve it. But he needed this, the power of her light anchoring him to the world. The torn pieces of his soul rejoined with her own. He was in her debt, and he would make it up to her.

With a contrite heart, he bowed his head to her shoulder, and allowed the ancient chant to form on his tongue. He whispered it to her in the way he had always heard it, in the tongue of his fathers, holding the true power and meaning of the ancients embedded within.

**_Susu, csitri. In your arms, I am home, little one._**

__

**Te avio päläfertiilam.**

**You are my lifemate.**

****

Ted kuuluak, kacad, kojed.

_I belong to you._****

Élidamet andam.

_I offer my life for you._****

Pesämet andam.

_I give you my protection._****

Uskolfertiilamet andam.

_I pledge my allegiance._****

Sívamet andam.

_I pledge my heart._****

Sielamet andam.

_I offer my soul._****

Ainamet andam.

_I offer my body._****

Sívamet kuuluak kaik että a ted.

_All that is dear to you is held to my heart. All that is yours is cherished._****

Ainaak olenszal sívambin.

_Your life will be cherished by me for all time. _****

Te élidet ainaak pide minan.

_Your life will be placed above mine for all time._


	12. Chapter 12

As she stood calmly balanced on one foot at the top of the huge pole 600 feet above the ground, Nicolette blew out a breath and closed her eyes. More training exercises. This particular un-earthly experience was designed to help her meditation. Why in the world she would ever feel the need to meditate was beyond her. It wasn't like she was the Karate Kid or something. As a matter of fact, she was completely mystified as to what exactly somebody actually _did_ when they 'meditated'. How on earth was this little excursion ever going to help her defeat whatever-the-hell it was that she was supposed to defeat?

But, on the other hand, it was absolutely gorgeous up here. Stars and silence. Nothing but herself and her thoughts. Yet, maybe that wasn't such a good thing... Her thoughts weren't always the most calm and comforting affairs.

It had been odd to wake up and not be alone. It had been incredibly different to have Caelen by her side, and she was very certain that it would take her a while to get used to his frequent mental and physical contact. He had barely allowed her to leave his side all night. She was certain the servants were incredibly confused, seeing their master so intimate with his so-called 'niece'. She was starting to wonder if his hand was permanently attached to her waist. Trinity too had been unusually possessive. She had just been on the verge of banning to pup to his doghouse, and metaphorically sending the Ancient to his own, when Caelen had suggested this little midnight adventure.

And now that she found herself able to breathe again at a few hundred feet in the air, Nicolette felt questions flooding her mind. They gnawed at her, worrying her, and Nicolette wasn't used to worrying.

Primarily, what had happened to that woman from before? She had been aware of Gregori and Caelen modifying the memories of the surviving guests as they fled Caelen's manor, ensuring that they returned home without any recollection of the spectacle they had witnessed, and when she had entered the hall this morning there had been no trace of the previous night's _indiscretions_... She supposed that Caelen had quietly taken care of it, but it bothered her. Simply pretending that it hadn't happened wouldn't make it go away. She had killed. Murdered. Yes, she had been under compulsion at the time, but still the stain was on her hands.

And was she safe from it now? Would the ritual words protect her from any other such incidents, or would their binding make everything that much harder until the ritual was complete? And also.., what if she couldn't complete it? What if she had made a horrible mistake already by allowing Caelen to utter those irreversible words? She was terrified of the man. She knew that and accepted it. She didn't completely trust him. He knew that. And after all, he had never given her any reason too. With all the secrets he had kept, and the ones he still refused to share.... She had seen for herself the darkness in his soul, the shadows in his mind. He didn't trust her, either. She knew that, and she couldn't blame him. He had lived a long life with the protection of distrust and suspicion. But yet, could she really condemn _herself_ to an eternity of doubt and disbelief? Would she be happy in such an insecure existence?

In the stillness of the night, a single soft tendril of breeze licked at her face. Nicolette jumped at the sudden contact, being forcibly pulled from the depths of her musings as she lost her footing and fell, grappling out with blind fingers for a handhold on the pole. The nails of her right hand lengthened and sharpened, becoming talons that sliced neatly into the wood and effectively stopped her freefalling fiasco. Nicolette hung there for a moment, panting as she waited for her heart rate to return to normal. She felt the soft touch of Caelen in her mind, and the unspoken censure caused a blush to rise to her cheeks. It was ridiculous. How could she so distrust this man, hold such a fear of him, yet still blindly yearn for his approval? Why did she feel such a need for his praise?

The soft line of her jaw set defiantly, and Nicolette coolly retracted her claw-hold on the pole, allowing herself to resume the fall. As the wind of it pulled her hair out in strands and sent licks of sensation tingling up her skin, Nicolette breathed deeply and allowed herself to dissolve, to become a breath of nothing among the stars and clouds. Tiny particles of her essence streamed toward the ground like sparkling raindrops against the black of night, and she relished the feeling.

Caelen met her on the ground, and Nicolette found herself resenting his demanding pull back to reality. She materialised behind him, becoming a wispy, scarlet silhouette in the shadows. Caelen reached for her mind, and was met with an ironclad denial. Nicolette refused to be caught. She sent him a particularly detailed mental image of herself, a gilt silver leash, and him on the wrong end. He stifled a particularly strong urge to laugh. He knew his amusement would serve no purpose in abating her frustration, but the childish determination in her antics was simply too adorable to be resisted.

With an outstretched arm, Caelen beckoned her to him. However, he was not surprised when she retreated from his grasp. Nicolette felt the pulse of her heart quicken in fear as a soft, devilish smile twisted his lips. This was so not the Caelen she was used to. What ever had happened to her tall, stoic, aloof, gentlemanly instructor? She watched with a narrowed gaze as Caelen's form shimmered for a moment, and dissolved in a silent stream of silver vapour. With wary eyes she stepped into the clearing, circling softly in an attempt to watch all directions at once.

The was a whisper of sound to her right, and she spun round defensively in that direction, only to feel his hand touch gently on her left shoulder. With the lightning reflexes born of passion and long practice, Nicolette dropped to all fours and swept a long leg in the general direction of where his feet were _supposed_ to be. But of course they weren't, and as her leg sliced neatly through empty space Nicolette continued her roll, flipping herself neatly from a handstand to a cat-like crouch in the shadows. With a perfect, unruffled calm, Caelen shimmered back into being in the centre of the small clearing. Feigning complete nonchalance, he leaned casually against the giant pole folding his arms across his chest. He felt Nicolette's gaze roaming his body from her temporary sanctuary in the blackness, and caught a glimpse of her red, jaguar eyes close to the ground as she prowled. He kept those eyes in sight, reaching out again mentally for her recognition. She snarled, and denied him.

"Nicolette..." The word was a silken purr of sweet promise, a warning, and she felt the pull of it, the compulsion which did not come from his power, but from himself, the part she couldn't ignore. "Come to me, little one."

It caught her, sunk deep sharp barbs in her heart and dragged her forward... It was ridiculous, like she was the swarming, fluttering moth and he the proverbial flame; flickering hypnotically, tantalizingly, seductively... _Blazing_, actually. She found everything about him a sensual pull, an undeniable animal attraction. This was so.. _insane. _What had changed so much in two days? Had she really lost her sanity along with her willpower?

In the Jaguar's sleek form she blew out a sharp breath, and drew back her lip in disgust as she crawled out from her relative sanctuary and into the open. With a slinking sullenness she made her way towards him, her tail twitching occasionally in a hypnotic rhythm. She came to a halt in front of him, managing to stand belligerently even as she changed back to her natural shape. Keeping her arms tight to her sides and bending from the waist in a formal bow, she kept her tone even, and the level of heavy sarcasm in her voice to a bare minimum.

"You summoned, Master?"

She straightened in time to see the devilish smirk returned to his handsome features once more, and then suddenly he was there; close, much too close, his hand on her neck and his breath in her ear, and the pounding sound of the blood in his veins beckoning her like the very song of the angels. How in the name of _Heaven_ did he always come out with the upper hand? Well, perhaps technically the lower hand, as his fingers were most definitely making their way to regions further south..... But suddenly she didn't feel any real objection to that.

His nose found her cheek, and the headiness of his scent was suddenly intoxicating. Nicolette felt herself responding, betrayed once again by her own body. Hunger beat solidly in her, and the sound of his heartbeat sounded loud in her ears. She pulled back her upper lip and flicked at the fangs with her tongue as she nuzzled her way to his neck. There was a spike of excitement, fear, and when she would have found the strength to turn away from enthralling temptation, she felt his hand at the back of her neck, coaxing, soothing. With the protection of his permission, and by his encouragement feeling herself absolved of any particular sin, Nicolette pressed her soft mouth to his flawless skin and sank her fangs once again into warm, welcoming flesh.


	13. Chapter 13

Blood. Warm, sweet, welcoming, strengthening, beautiful, delectable, delicious blood. Powerful blood. Intoxicating blood. Addicting blood.

The blood of an Ancient. The blood of an Adianti.

Nicolette stood and saw the world through new eyes. Eyes that burned and glowed a deep, feral red. Eyes that saw the flutter of every leaf and the scuttle of every bug. Eyes that pierced the blackness of darkest night. Eyes that looked at the moon, and saw every dip and shadow, every rock and crater.

Power rippled through her. She felt it ebb and swell. The headiness of it was exhilarating. She could do anything. Catch a star, swim the Pacific, fly straight upwards; to the heavens and forever. Warm her hands on the sun.

With slight, shivering awe Nicolette made her way to the middle of the clearing, trying desperately to look anywhere and everywhere at once. She was intensely focused on the lazy, elegant flight of a night hawk overhead, when a field mouse scurried across her attention, and she wondered if it was heading home to babies in the nest; yet before that train of thought ran its course, the tiniest particle of dust drifted before her new eyes, and she found herself enthralled by the beauty and intricacy of such a microscopic object.

It was enchanting, and magical. Fledgling Carpathians, even with all their acutely heightened senses, could not experience this. Nicolette reached out with an ease she did not think to question and touched Caelen's mind with childlike wonder.

_Do you always see the world this way?_

Even his voice in her head, when it came, was different. As though she had never truly heard the low-keyed, hypnotic beauty of it before.

_No, csitri. One becomes accustomed to such things. I believe the novelty of the experience tends to lend it a certain potency._

Caelen smiled softly as he watched her explore. She stood in the center of the clearing with her face in the wind and her hands held out, palms up to the heavens. It was like watching a blind man see for the first time. A child exploring the real version of her favourite fantasy.

_I doubt that. It would be seriously impossible to ever get used to this. I mean, I can __**see**__ everything. I can __**hear**__ everything. _

She turned to face him, the moonlight glancing off her shoulder length dark curls and deep dark eyes with dazzling intrigue. And when she looked at Caelen, it was truly like she saw him for the first time. Surely before his features had not been so chiselled and perfect. Surely before he had not had quite that sexy, elegant line to his straight posture. Surely before the breeze had never coaxed his silver hair to dance so silkily against his jaw line in quite such a tender caress. Surely before in the white moonlight his eyes had never been that deep shade of jade green. And surely that haunted shadow within them had never before been quite that terrifying. Surely, before, his lips had not held that captivating, sexy half-curve of a smile.

At least, surely, before she had not been able to see it.

"I can _**feel **_everything_._"

She whispered it as an admission; a confession. The same sensual, powerful blood which lent her new preternatural senses, also gave her a much keener insight to Caelen von Traske.

She felt all the normal things from him, of course; the dark price of solitude, the stifling bonds of honour and duty, the cost of every sin and soul on his head; the emotional torture native to Carpathians. The price they paid for immortality. The soft call which all lifemates answered, in the end. The cry of a lost soul.

But there was more to it there. Just at the surface a wave of confusion; sadness, terror, guilt; threatened wash her under. Emotions were a nuisance that Caelen had not had to deal with for many centuries, and now he was completely unsure of protocol. The energy emanating from him engulfed her, and Nicolette closed her eyes, tasting the strange newness of it.

And there, just below the sea of confusion, cleverly camouflaged but not quite hidden, was something else entirely. A deep streak of crimson energy, pulsating in a silent rhythm that seemed to match her heart. Curious, Nicolette reached out for it. It hit her like a freight train, the power of it overwhelming and horribly confusing.

_Lust. _

Pure, unadulterated, unapologetic, unexplained lust. Lust _for her._

Nicolette felt his attraction to her. His need for her. She gave a shiver of incomprehension and momentary disgust. It was truly incredibly weird to suddenly find _herself_ arousing_. _To find herself _desirable._ To find herself so goddamn _sexy_ it hurt to look. And it truly did. Through Caelen's eyes Nicolette saw her own image; and it was blinding. The cream of her skin was tantalizing. The flip of her hair when she laughed was heart breaking. The way the right side of her mouth would curve up in a smirk was horribly, devastatingly distracting. The flash of her pearly white teeth against ruby red lips was disturbingly painful, sending a whip of lightening heat through secret places….

With a small gasp at this sudden and disconcerting revelation, Nicolette took a step back, her eyes flying open to stare at the tall silver figure who stood calmly in the center of their quiet clearing. It seemed that the darkness which fell so completely everywhere else had granted Caelen special reprieve, and he glowed softly from pure rays of pale moonlight that reached down to touch his shoulder. He looked so completely unperturbed, that Nicolette took a second take. Had she imagined it?

Could anyone feel the intensity of what she had experienced, yet stand perfectly still before the source of such frustration? If you had asked her just ten seconds ago, Nicolette would not have believed it. She reached a telepathic hand back out toward that scarlet fire, as if testing the temperature. She felt the heat of it against her cheek. Small curling tendrils of passion's flame licked softly at her mind. She felt her toes curl involuntarily at the contact. Her eyes closed and she drew in a breath. The motion drew the focus of Caelen's inner demon to her soft, full lips. Nicolette read his reaction as the focus shifted from her lips to the line of her neck, from her neck to the soft hollow of her collarbone, and from there to the slight swell of her breasts above the v-neck of her soft black shirt. Maybe she shouldn't have worn something so form-fitting.

A particularly bright tongue of flame flared up at this errant thought, and Nicolette gasped, her teeth catching her lower lip sharply as she instantly recanted the idea. Something warm and tingling brushed her skin, and her insides melted. Oh, no. She should always dress this way. This fire should never be allowed to go out. Never be allowed to fade. It could only burn brighter. Hotter. Expand and grow until… until…

Nicolette's eyes flew open, and she forced herself to take a few calming breaths. Her eyes focused on the ground, and she zeroed in on the sparkling drops of dew on the crisp green grass, She let the cool night air wash over her and listened to the blood pounding in her ears. There were silent footsteps behind her, and she saw the toe of Caelen's white leather shoe. Had it only been seconds that she stood there burning… and he stoically standing just three steps away?

A soft touch ran down her back. His fingers traced the outline of her spine. The chill of a breeze raised bumps on her heated flesh. She felt him gently trace a finger along one silky curl of red hair. She turned to watch the mesmerising and sombre look in his eyes.

It was seduction. Seduction plain and simple and blatant. Seduction when she reached up to touch his face. Seduction when she stepped in to press her body against his. Seduction when she batted her long lashes and pulled his head down to kiss her. Seduction when she put her arms around his neck. Seduction when she whispered in his ear. Seduction when her lips touched his jaw. Seduction when she planted slow, delicate kisses in a row from his ear to his collarbone. Sweet, sweet seduction when she said she was his forever.

And it was surrender when his gaze met her eyes. Surrender when he shivered at her touch. Surrender when he crushed her lips with his and pulled her to him. Surrender when his arms circled her waist. Surrender when he bent his head to kiss her hair. Surrender when her scent clouded his senses with heavenly intoxication. Surrender when he lowered them both to the forest floor. Sweet, sweet surrender when his name was the only cry on her lips.

And as the warm, welcoming earth closed in around them, Nicolette knew that she was right. Whatever flame fate held between them could only continue to burn….

_until it consumes us both._


	14. Chapter 14

So this is what it felt like.

Nicolette's head threw back, her breath coming in soft gasps. Her skin gleamed silkily in the golden glow of a hundred candles. Her red curls bounced gently against her cheek in soft rhythm with the motion of her hips. She opened her mouth and licked her lips with a quiet purr, feeling her fangs descend wickedly sharp and hungry, aching to sink into the lush softness of smooth, creamy, tempting flesh. Her eyes closed and she smiled, her hands moving wickedly over the expanse of smooth, creamy flesh beneath her. Her fingernails traced the lines of taut muscles along Caelen's shoulder, and she shuddered as his large, strong hands returned the favour. His fingers kneaded gently into the soft flesh of her hips as he coaxed her silently to kick the tempo up another notch. Nicolette eagerly complied.

With a growl she leaned down, her upper body slinking forward with sleek, feline movements. She bucked her hips up once sharply, watching his face as the rough friction sent ripples through her spine. He shuddered, and his jaw locked, the muscle in his cheek clenching while his startlingly green eyes opened. He looked up at her through heavy lids, the heady embers of lust and something else burning in those emerald orbs. Nicolette sucked in a lazy breath and then sighed, the sweet sensation of skin on skin tingling as her nose brushed his chin. She nuzzled her way down. Her hips bucked sharply again, and she felt him stiffen, his body hardening under her sweet torture. A short expletive tore past his lips, and Nicolette laughed wickedly against his neck. She pulled back her upper lip, letting her fangs graze his skin before she bit. Caelen turned his head for her, allowing her better access.

Nicolette purred tenaciously, but declined, instead swiping her tongue out and continuing to explore his body with her mouth. Her shoulders rolled lazily as she turned her neck, and she let the motion continue down her spine, lifting her hips up leisurely, almost completely off of him. Caelen growled and ran his hands up her sides, the gesture possessive. Nicolette clicked her tongue softly as she nuzzled his chest. Her eyelashes batted against his skin, allowing already responsive nerves to kick into overdrive. She kissed and licked until she found his nipple, drawing it tenderly into the hot cavern of her mouth. One small feminine hand splayed possessively over his heart. As her fangs sank deeply into this highly sensitized part of his anatomy, Nicolette guided herself back down onto him, her hips moving with exquisite slowness, enveloping him in silken warmth. Caelen's breathing faltered. He sucked in a sharp breath, and let it escape in a long, low hiss. His fingers gripped her sides with bruising force just at the little indentation above the flare of her hips. Nicolette felt him struggling to form cohesive thoughts beneath her sensory onslaught.

_you will be the death of me, csitri. _

Nicolette made a soft mewling sound of agreement while she applied more suction to her feeding place of choice. The heady spice of his ancient blood was intoxicating to her fledgling body. She felt like she'd never get quite enough.

*beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep*

*beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep*

*beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep*

With a load groan of protest, Nicolette turned over in her bed and smothered herself with the thick white pillow in an attempt to drown out the atrocious sound of her alarm clock. Dammit.

Damn damn damn damn.

Her long silky red curls emerged tangled in dissaray as she ventured to peek out at the flashing LED numbers on the clock. eight thirty. Damn. School. Teachers, Math exams, angsty teenage kids... Real Life.

_it had been such a good dream..._


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N - I know i know i know. re-read the last chapter, ppl! do it now!**

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**-**

A dream. A Dream! Just a goddamn dream. A remarkably vivid, life-like, long, detailed dream... But just a dream. Dammit. Nicolette bit down on one long scarlet red fingernail and stared down as she picked her way absent-mindedly through the perils of Braxton High's school hallways. Still deep in thought, Nicolette turned her lithe body sideways to squeeze between two sets of kissing couples, ducked down to avoid a flying textbook, and did a smart two step twist in her high-heeled cork-wood sandals to dodge a knife flicked quickly at someone to her left. A dream. Yes, it definitely must have been that. She had been reading one too many cheap romance novels. Nicolette shifted he bookbag to her right so as to keep it out of range of a short blonde's Bic-lighter-turned-flamethrower. But this was the fourth time she'd dreamed it. What was the significance?

Nicolette took out her books without looking at them and opened them automatically. Biology really didn't hold her interest for very long. If she had to write one more essay about Darwin's theory of evolution or natural selection… well, it wouldn't be pretty. Nicolette spent the day half-listening to lessons, wandering the halls, and doodling randomly in her notebook. She wasn't truly thinking of anything in particular. But more and more she found the events in her dreams playing themselves over and over in her head. She was flying. She could see through panther eyes. She wielded swords with deft accuracy. She was burned by sunlight. And, Ew, she drank blood.

She killed a woman with her bare hands. (well, and her bare fangs, if you wanted to get technical..)

She'd slept with a man so beautiful it hurt to look at him. And, somehow, even though he was waayy impossibly gorgeous, Caelen really didn't feel like just a dream. Also, even with the bare-handed-and-fanged murder, this was the most surreal part of the dream.

Now, it wasn't like Nicolette was some sweet innocent phsyco-religious virgin… And it wasn't like she never had hot hormonal urges.. It was just that she'd never ever ever ever found a guy that turned her on. And Nicolette had been offered some very turn-on worthy guys. She was tall and soft and round in all the right places, and she had a face that fit her figure. Full-lipped and doe-eyed, Nicolette wasn't hurting for male attention. But she'd never felt anything in return. Oh, she'd had sex a time or two.. almost just to prove to herself that she _could… _but there had been nothing enjoyable in the act.

Yup, she was a freak. She'd come to that conclusion a long time ago. For a while she'd even wondered if she was gay - what other explanation? - but discovered quickly that women really didn't do it for her either.

So, there she was. Doomed to a lifetime of Old Maid-dom. And _yet_…

Final bell rang, and Nicolette jumped, accidentally knocking her books to the floor. She cursed and bent to gather them up. Her hand froze halfway towards her open notebook. Staring up at her from the page was a beautiful set of haunting emerald eyes.

Somehow seeing her own drawing had made the whole thing a little too real. She snatched the book up and snapped it shut with a little more force than necessary. Cramming it down deep into her denim book bag, she pushed the dream just as deeply into the back of her mind.

***********************************

The drive home gave Nicolette time to think of other things. She ran over the day in her head, gleaning the important parts from her half-assed attempt at paying attention. Mr. Grayson had given them two more chapters of Quadratic Equations, (Damn him to hell), they'd watched a movie in English the last two classes, (Romeo and Juliet, Leo DiCaprio style) so there was no homework there, but hadn't Ms Rodriguez said something about a Quiz in AP chem? _Damnit, _she had, too. Well, that ought to cancel any brooding time that Nicolette had had planned for the evening.

Thank God she didn't have to work tonight. Waiting tables at Ming's Chinese in the hot sweaty restaurant, working for four hours with people who barely spoke english and tipped just as sparsly, on _top_ of three tonz of homework, really isn't the most relaxing of pastimes.

The apartment when she got there was cold and dark and empty. Nicolette sighed and reached out to switch on the light as she set her books down on the kitchen table. Well, it wasn't like she'd expected anything else. Being the only child and emancipated teen of two alcoholic druggies doesn't make for a real happy homecoming. For a minute Nicolette wished whole-heartedly that she'd been able to bring the little pup Trinity back to reality with her. But only for a minute. In the next, Nicolette had plunked her ipod into its dock and blasted Nickelback , turning on the hot water in the sink and getting set to wash some week-old dishes while she rocked out to Rockstar.


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N no intro needed, I realize- read on, young fanfiction addicts, read on**.

* * *

It was late when Nicolette reopened her eyes. The lids seemed sluggish and heavy as she blinked against the brightness of her kitchen/living room light. Dragging a hand across her eyes, she yawned as she raised her head from the impromptu pillow of her open Chemistry textbook. Squinting, she considered the blurry page for a moment, but quickly gave it up. She stood up stiffly, her aluminium folding chair making a soft scratching sound against the linoleum as it slid back, protesting.

Nicolette stretched as she shuffled to turn off the light, and padded softly through the living room, pausing for a moment to hit the button on her ancient boxy TV that would fade Conan's fuzzy red hair to a black blank screen. Poor Tonight Show. It really wouldn't be the same without Jay Leno.

In the dark and sudden quiet Nicolette made her way absently towards her bedroom. A iridescent glow filtered through the blinds from a streetlight, and the warmer tone of her bedside lamp guided her sleepy steps. As she walked Nicolette started to undress, silkily sliding out of the long purple T-shirt and fumbling idly with the buttons on her now-uncomfortably-tight skinny jeans. The T-shirt hit the wall above an overflowing laundry hamper and slid to the floor with a soft rustle of fabric as Nicolette closed the bedroom door. Finding herself not quite able to work the clasp on her new chocolate-coloured lace bra, she turned her back to get a better look in the full-length mirror on the adjoining wall, and instantly froze.

Sparkling eyes stared back at her from the reflection in the mirror. It was hard to tell for sure in the dark, looking through her imperfect human vision, but Nicolette was quite certain that if the face that held those eyes was to lean forward slightly into the light from the bedside lamp, they would glow a startling, breathtaking emerald green.

He sat in the comfortable old armchair set by her bed. One hand dangled over the lip of the armrest, bent at the wrist. As she watched, he flexed it lazily, his long fingers moving gracefully. His other arm was up, elbow propped on the rest, and he was drawing the back of one finger across his lips thoughtfully as he contemplated her. His face was half in shadow, but the glitter of his eyes stood out clearly. Nicolette sucked in a shaky breath she didn't know she'd been holding. She shivered involuntarily as she felt those eyes rake her up and down, thoroughly. She felt clearly the rough, cold, tingling sensation; just as though someone with freezing hands had brushed lightly over her exposed flesh. The touch felt tainted, dark. She felt the onset of goose bumps, and turned to pick up the oversize_ Team Jacob _shirt she usually slept in. Forcing herself to move smoothly, not allowing the trembling of her hands to show, she pulled it over her head and turned to face her visitor with a bit less self-consciousness.

"Who are you?" She folded her arms over her chest, trying to keep her pounding heart from jumping right out of her ribcage, as it seemed determined to do. Fear prickled the back of her neck. The figure in the chair leaned forward, and one side of his face caught the light of the lamp, throwing his profile into sharp relief. The side of his mouth seemed to be pulled up in a very subtle smirk. Nicolette sucked in a soft breath.

_Do not ask questions to which you know the answer._

The words slid inside her mind soft as silk, sounding quiet in her head, and a drug-like quality in his voice seemed to numb her, leaving her defences open to the intimate intrusion. His touch in her mind felt foreign, _wrong,_ a violation of the most sacred, private places. She fought the numbness, backing up, shaking her head and squeezing her eyes shut. Wrong, impossible. People didn't just get inside your brain and talk.

_People? You know nothing of your people. These creatures you dwell amongst, these pitiful humans. You are not their kind. You know this. Come to me._

A new injection of numbing influence washed over her with the words. With a soft exclamation, Nicolette squeezed her eyes shut and raised her hands to her head, her fists clenched to her temples. She doubled over on herself, curling inward. No, no, no. She felt the stifling touch of his magic, and it clashed with her own in her head, a silky silver mist enveloping her bright red luminescence. She was suffocating. She clawed at it, screaming.

_GET OUT!_

She shouted the order as loud as she could, but she didn't use her voice; she lashed out at him, shoving, kicking, squirming, clawing, fighting harder than ever in her life, yet didn't physically move in inch. Red light flashed brilliantly behind her eyes.

"Nicolette!"

The cry shocked her out of the trance, and she felt firm hands on her shoulders, shaking. She opened her eyes, her breath coming in short sharp gasps from the effort of throwing him out of her head. Immediately she flinched away from his touch, but her back was against the mirror, his arms to either side, and she had nowhere to go.

"Get your hands off me. I mean it!_ Leave me alone_."

She felt him stiffen, and his large luminescent eyes widened. But he didn't let go. He stood facing her, his head bowed to meet the level of her eyes. Nicolette suddenly felt oddly childlike, and very small. She was shaking, not uncontrollably, but there was a definite tremble running through her like an electric current. Her body felt drained, yet on the verge of something- spontaneous combustion, exploding, she didn't know what, but it prompted her to continue to struggle. Caelen shook her again, and she felt her teeth rattle in her skull.

"Stop it, you ridiculous girl. Do you _know_ what you just _did?_ You could have been killed! Oh for the love of Christ. Will. You. _Desist?_ Nicolette, _stop._ You're about to Ascend, and trust me, that won't be enjoyable at the moment, alright? Be _still._"

He seemed impossibly strong, physically, and she eventually gave up. Besides, he'd piqued her curiosity, and now that he was no longer trying to infiltrate her brain, she felt a bit safer, and that was weird as hell, because she was sure her arms were going to have nasty black bruises from his crushing grip. He could snap her neck like a flower stem. Which also made it really useless to keep struggling. She went still for a moment, breathing heavily, her eyes focused pointedly on the floor instead of meeting his gaze (the emerald intensity of which she could feel burning a large hole in her forehead).

"Fine." She said, and was severely agitated by the pronounced tremble in her voice. But as it seemed impossible to control just yet, she decided that ignoring it was the best thing to do. With a sigh she brought her eyes up to his, refusing to show intimidation. It was hard. Her head hurt like a bitch.

"You can let go of me, now." She pointed out. He smiled a little- a wicked uplift at the very corner of his mouth that somehow only made him look more dangerous. If Nicolette hadn't been shaking already, she might have shivered.

"I could, little one, but if I did, I am not entirely convinced that you would remain standing."

Nicolette narrowed her eyes and straightened herself in his grip. Caelen cocked an eyebrow and removed his hands experimentally, ready to catch her shoulders again if she swayed. She didn't, and he nodded, straightening up. Nicolette allowed her face the smallest of smirks, and then reminded her legs not to fold underneath her.

"Alright," Nicolette cleared her throat and tried again, subtly shifting her weight so she was leaning back against the wall. She felt absolutely drained, but she was still wary, on the defensive, and she didn't want to show her weakness. "Let's try this again, shall we? Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my bedroom?"

Caelen didn't seem to be paying attention. He was walking around her bedroom, slowly, thoughtfully. As he walked his eyes roamed, and he touched things occasionally; just a light brush of one long, elegant fingertip. He seemed to be soaking up information about her. Almost, she thought, basking in the presence of her things. He looked… _reverent. _The way a religious man acts when visiting a place of worship. A small crease formed between Nicolette's eyebrows as she watched.

"You already know who I am, _csitri. _I am Caelen von Traske. Spiritual leader and guardian of the ancient Carpathian race. You've dreamt of me, as you've dreamt of others of our kind. Your sleep brings you the stories of our people, past present and future, and this it does through the bond you share with me; for through that bond your eyes are mine, as my eyes are yours, and our souls and minds become one."

Here he paused in his meticulous inventory, and finally turned to look at her, and it was a look of burning, blinding intensity. Nicolette blinked. Twice.

"It is, of course, the bond between lifemates. A particularly strong bond in and of itself, I'm sure you know; but it is ours in particular, little flower, that truly seems to be strengthened and fortified, perhaps a hundredfold, by the very singular nature of what _you_ are."

Here he stopped in his diatribe and looked at her expectantly, seeming to think she had something to add. Nicolette's eyes were wide, mesmerized by the power of his soft, laconic voice. She licked her lips.

"And, that would be…?"

Caelen smiled a soft, genuine smile at her wide-eyed naiveté.

"A creature a thousand times more powerful than the strongest werewolf, and a hundred thousand times more terrifying than the strongest vampire, cherie. _You_ are an _angel_."


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N**

**Hey my ducks. Long time. Unfortunately, this is not an update; however, I have not abandoned this story.**

**In the mean time, any Underworld fans should go to my profile and check out Night of The BloodredMoon, the story which is currently getting all of my attention. It's a Lucian/OC, and I'm in love with them!**

**Read it and let me know what you think! and give me a title for black nail polish 2! I've been thinkin bout something with Red Nail Polish in it..**


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